Goodnight, Miss Valentina
by BitChiVampire
Summary: Sherlock/OC Story. Sherlock finally gets a girlfriend. However things for Mr. Holmes couldn't never be just that simple. He must face the people trying to break them down, emotionally and physically.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

"Ugh!" Sherlock muttered. John rolled his eyes woefully. He hadn't had a single case in over a month and his patience was wearing dangerously thin. The lack of any real stimuli was almost painfully suffocating. Either the police were getting smarter or the criminals were getting dumber. Sherlock let out a small smile. He highly doubted the former.

"John, I'm going out for a walk. I'll be back soon." Sherlock called out, as he shrugged on his long grey coat and loosely wrapped his blue scarf around his neck.

"Get some milk while you're out, will you?" John asked hopefully. Sherlock chuckled "Never." He heard John sigh as he departed down the steps of 221B Baker Street, into the cool, crisp breeze of the early morning streets.

Pulling his leather gloves put of his deep pockets and onto his paling hands and tightening his scarf, he casually strolled down the pavement.

Nothing interesting.

He only saw about three people anyway, all just going about their business. Well, expect the second one, who was going to meet his mistress, but that was blindingly obvious anyway. What investment banker goes out at 11pm wearing hoodie and keeping his head down? A cheating one.

Sigh. When did the world become so dreadfully dull?

He was half-way turning around to go back to Baker Street, when his eyes caught sight of a wild, curly mass of red-ginger hair, peeking out from among the piled up rubbish bins and tips.

How intriguing.

He shuffled closer, silently, so as not to make his presence aware. There he found a young woman, sitting quietly, and fiddling with her finger nails nervously. "You are not homeless" Sherlock stated, slightly bemused by her situation. She looked up, confused as to why this man was talking to her.

"No. No, I'm not." She sighed, pushing aside her pride "I'm lost actually. How did you know I'm not homeless?" Sherlock smiled. A new challenge.

"Apart from the fact that you are wearing at least 2 carat gold earrings and designer high heels? Not typically homeless attire, might I say" Sherlock questioned, more to himself than her, "You don't smell very homeless," Sherlock was cut off by her abrupt laughter.

"Well that's nice to know!" Sherlock grinned ever so slightly. Her laugh was precariously contagious.

He continued "You're an artist and you play the guitar. You're an only child from a wealthy family but you don't like to rely on them...too much. You are quite independent; you don't expect anyone to look after you. Your father left your mother when you were young and you haven't seen him since. Your mother never really coped with his absence, she loved him and she died last year" Sherlock stopped, watching carefully for a reaction.

"How on earth could you know so much about me? Have you been stalking me? Are you some night-crawler or something because I swear I will call the-"She ranted off until Sherlock stopped her. "I am not a night-crawler and I do not stalk you. I am not that bored" Sherlock told her. "Then explain how you know my life story!" She exclaimed frustrated.

"That you are an artist? Easy. You have callouses on your fingers where you hold your pencil for long periods of time at a go. Very dedicated, I see" Sherlock cocked his head to the side "That you play the guitar? You have incredible long fingers, often cause by playing an instrument that requires you to stretch your fingers. Piano? No, you don't look like one for the piano. Or a violin for that matter. So guitar then" Sherlock supposed.

"My fingers seem to give away a lot of information about me" She wondered vacantly. "They do. Also, your necklace says "Best Daughter". Imagine the rivalry THAT would have caused if you had any sisters! You hold yourself like a proper lady, no doubt you've had lessons on it. They I would be surprised if you had any male presence at home at all. No brothers or father. Now, how on earth could an artist afford a 2 carat gold earrings and designer shoes? I'm guessing that you don't work considering its Wednesday tomorrow and you were content on just sitting here. So, affluent family, your mother was probably somewhat in the public eye. Also, you're not British. You're American from New York I suspect but you came to London a while ago, but you still haven't lost your accent no matter how hard you tried."

The lady nodded absently smiling, clearly reflecting, however Sherlock took this a signal to continue "You have a small tattoo on your ankle of someone's birth and death year, 1955? That would have made them 55 years old, now who would you know who would have been around that age? Well, it must have been someone pretty close to you for you to get a tattoo. I'm guessing that your lack of a father made your bond with your mother rather tight" Sherlock finished.

She nodded once again, though this time, much more sadly. "I'm sorry, did I upset you?" Sherlock questioned cautiously. "No, no. I'm fine really" She lied. She never really liked thinking about her dysfunctional family life or her parents. Sherlock looked slightly sceptically.

"But, there is one thing that I don't know," Sherlock supposed. She arched a eyebrow, suspiciously "What your name is" She laughed, almost in disbelief. "You are an odd one! You can tell my whole life story but not my name?" She questioned. Sherlock shrugged. "Esme Valentina, It's a pleasure to meet you..." Esme's voice trailed off slightly "Sherlock Holmes, you have quite a lovely name" He answered quickly, looking at the floor, which had suddenly become extremely fascinating. Esme flushed red "Thank you" "Anyway, Ms Valentina, enough chit-chat! Up you get, now where do you live?" Sherlock enquired. Esme stood up from her hiding place and Sherlock politely looked away as she straighten and pulled down her rather short dress, which had ridden up her thigh.

"Salford Street" Esme replied. "Come on, that's not far, we can walk it" Sherlock had already started to stroll in the direction of her street when Esme called after him "Mr Holmes, you don't have to escort me home, really I don't want to waste anymore of your time. Just tell me the directions and I'll be one my way"

"Ms Valentina," "Miss. Sorry, it's Miss" Esme interjected before realising she had been slightly rude . "Miss Valentina, You did not waste my time at all. In fact, I found our small conversation rather enjoyable" She smiled "I would be my pleasure to walk you home, and it wouldn't be very gentlemanly like of me to just send you off, would it?" "Thank you, I-I'm flattered" She replied gratefully. And with that they set off on the short walk to Esme's street.

They walked in silence, albeit, a comfortable silence.

They reached her house in approximately 10 minutes and Esme walked up the three steps to her doors and then turned around, to where Sherlock waited at the bottom of the stairs. "Thank you for taking the time to talk to me and see me home, Mr Holmes" She declared. "Again, it was my pleasure" Sherlock divulged simply. "Do you think that I will be seeing you again anytime soon?" Esme spoke hopefully.

Ok, she had to admit. She found him attractive. Mid-length black curly hair, razor sharp cheekbones, light gray irises that almost seemed to melt and disappear into his eyes and an ultra tall and slim but muscular figure. Delicious.

"Oh Miss Valentina, I think we've had enough of each other for one night!" Sherlock chuckled, but Esme's face fell. "But how about this Friday?" Esme smiled "It's a date!"

"Goodnight, Miss Valentina." Sherlock replied.

"Goodnight...Sherlock."

**(Sherlock's thoughts)**

_Did that just happen? Did I just ask a girl out on a date? She accepted. Of course she accepted, it's me. I have a date. Wait, what do normal people do on dates? I barely know the girl! But there's something about her. Something different. She's quite pretty too, I'll admit. Soft, almost pixie like features, tall and slender and as pale as death. Her hair was quite literally crazy, with wild auburn curls. Auburn. What an intriguing colour._

_ Oh, what would John say?_

_Probably blog about it. I could imagine it now. "SHERLOCK HAS A DATE L-O-L!"_

_Or whatever internet slang, illiterate people use these days._

**A/N: Hmm, I'm not too sure about this chapter. Tell me if you think I should continue! Thank you for reading! x**


	2. Chapter 2

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter 2**

"Sherlock Holmes! Where on God's earth have you been for the past two hours?" John asked frantically.

After the first hour, John had started to worry about him. Knowing Sherlock and his past track record, he had probably gone to investigate something or the other without letting John know. But when a second hour passed, John was in a panic and honestly considering calling the police.

Alright, yes Sherlock could look after himself, but he's an idiot! The last time Sherlock disappeared for this long, he was being held at gunpoint (Albeit, a fake gun) and on the verge of taking a deadly pill and if it wasn't for him, Sherlock would lying ice cold in a coffin. So John felt like he had every right to be concerned.

"Good Lord, for a second there I thought you were my Mummy," Sherlock replied sarcastically. "Hello, to you too by the way" Sherlock smiled a wide grin cynically.

Sherlock knew that John was just concerned for his welfare but sometimes, he couldn't help but think that John over-reacts from time to time.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled slowly.

"Is a certain person angry with me?" Sherlock asked in a babyish tone.

"Do you wake up being such a prat or do you have to prepare before hand?" John asked quite haughtily.

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you at all, John" Sherlock said, narrowing his eyes to mere slits.

"I'm being deadly serious Sherlock! You said you were going for a walk, not a bloody marathon!" John said, visibly irked.

"For all I knew you could have been kidnapped or lying dead in an alleyway anywhere in London!" John said, growing tired of their bickering.

"John. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I was just held up. In case you had not yet realized, I am not a 13 year old."

Sherlock threw his coat and scarf onto the back of the couch, before sauntering into his room, slamming the door behind him, indicating that this conversation was over.

"Well, you bloody well act like one!"

* * *

><p><strong>FRIDAY NIGHT<strong>

"John, I'm going out to dinner" Sherlock announced as he put on his suit jacket.

"Great, I'll second that, I'm starving!" John replied, reaching for his coat.

"Did I not say I? I heard no we in my previous sentence" Sherlock turned away so as not to face John.

"Wh-Why can't I go with you?" John said, sounding quite hurt.

"I'm going to have dinner with a friend tonight"

"You don't have friends"

Now it was Sherlock's turn to sound hurt "That's not entirely factual"

"It's fine Sherlock, I understand if you don't want to spend time wi-"

"It's not that John, I-" He sounded exasperated.

Sherlock was cut off by John's abrupt and loud laughter.

"What?" By this point, Sherlock looked extremely confused.

"Calm down Sherlock and give up the act! Who is she?"

Sherlock closed his eyes and threw his head back "How did you know?" He asked rather sourly.

"Is that gel I see in your hair tonight Sherlock? I think you even combed it too. Suit jacket freshly dry-cleaned, you're wearing cuff-links and your shoes have been polished. If there one thing I can tell, it's when someone is making an effort" John seemed pleased with himself.

"You learn fast. Too fast I think" Sherlock muttered "I knew I was trying too hard"

"No! No, this is good. It's nice to go out of your way for someone" John smiled. Maybe, just maybe, Sherlock was becoming slightly more human.

"So," John started with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Sherlock rolled his eyes "Here we go..." He grumbled "Who's the lucky lady?" John asked.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Esmeralda Valentina."

"Fancy name. Where did you meet her?" John inquired as he put turned on the kettle. Sherlock sighed, then chuckled.

_The questioning would never stop would it? But how could he even reply to that_?

_Oh, yes I met my date in a pile of rubbish bins at 11pm at night. Romantic isn't it? _

_Wait romance? _

_Who said anything about romance? _

_Esmeralda is...a friend. _

_I think..._

"Fine then, don't answer that one. But what does she," The door slammed closed. "do. Guess I'll just have to wait."

* * *

><p>Sherlock walked briskly down to Salford Street and bounded up the steps to the door of the large London house that belonged to none other than Miss Esmeralda Valentina.<p>

Sherlock raised his hand, ready to knock on her door, but then he paused.

He pondered simply walking away now and leaving this woman be. She didn't know what she was getting into with Sherlock and that didn't seem at all fair.

But she interested him.

With her contagious laugh and siren looks.

Sherlock knew that sometime in the distant future he was going to regret this decision.

He knocked on the door.

**A/N: I know, I know, what a horrible ending! But I had to end it there, because I have no idea how I'm going to write the date chapter. I know it's short but sorry :) Also I should mention Esmeralda is Esme's full name (Sherlock deduced that and prefers it) Thanks for reading x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The sound of a chain being removed and a lock rattling pierced through the air. The door swung open to reveal Esmeralda, wearing a wine red skater dress that fell below her knees and made her hair look even brighter than usual, it had delicate lace sleeves, and she wore a white leather belt that flaunted her petite waistline.

Her usual mane had been carefully straightened and pulled back into a beautifully neat chignon.

She smiled happily at him "Hello! Come in!" She stepped back and beckoned him inside with a wave of her hand.

Her house was like every artist's dream world.

With high rise ceiling and tall large windows that would normally allow sunlight to flood the area, it was precariously airy. There was an obvious emphasis on wide open space and light in the house, and it was extremely contemporary .

"You look wonderful, Esmeralda." Sherlock said, with a smile, trying his best to be polite.

_He knows my proper name. Oh my god, the way it just rolls off his tongue, it's like heaven._

_ OK, keep calm, don't reveal anything._

"Ah, you deduced my full name."

"Yes, I figured your parents would have liked a more formal name for you. Do you prefer Esme?"

"No, it's fine. You can call me Esmeralda"

_So I can call her Esmeralda, but no-one else? Interesting._

"You have quite the house" He spun on his heels, taking in his new environment.

"Yes, well, my mother bought it for me," She grinned sheepishly "I love it. It's so modern and big! Just what an artist needs. But pardon the mess, I never was one for cleaning up after myself."

Actually, when Sherlock looked at it in more detail, she was right.

Clothes laid strewn on the backs of chairs. Books, canvas and paintbrushes littered the floor and artwork leaned on the walls, waiting to be hung up. Then one of the pieces caught Sherlock's eye.

He walked over and crouched down in front of it.

It was a mesmerizing self portrait of Esmeralda wearing old shirt as a dress holding her paintbrush, ready to start her next piece. The vivid colour of her hair, shone out and she still manage to look beautiful despite her rustic attire.

Sherlock turned around "That's amazing. Really, really amazing. Do you sell your paintings? You could make a lot" He beamed.

"Thank you," She looked down at the carpet "Yes, I've been told I should sell them, but after painting or drawing them, I just become so attached to them. Each one tells a story of how I was feeling at that time. They all feel so personal, like each one is a diary entry of my life" She smiled at him.

"But, enough about me, I believe we are meant to be going on a date?"

"Yes, we are. What would you like, I believe you're quite into Thai food?"

"Yeah, Thai would be lovely."

"Let's go then"

Esme and Sherlock turned simultaneously towards the door. Sherlock stepped out, while Esme flicked off the hallway light and closed the door behind her with a click.

He then held out his arm for Esme, who took it with a smile as they descended down the steps.

...

"Table for two"

"Let's make that three."

Esme spun around, to come face to face with a man no older than 35, staring directly back at her, smiling with an umbrella is his hand, even though it had been sunny earlier.

"It'll be two, actually." Sherlock repeated, as the waiter held a puzzled look on his face "Go away Mycroft." Sherlock rolled his eyes in distaste.

"You know him?" She said, genuinely surprised.

"Yes. Quite well, unfortunately. He's my brother." He said, the boredom echoing monotonously in his voice.

"I didn't know that you had a brother"

"He does. But I didn't know he had a little girlfriend."

Esme flushed a deep beetroot red, "I am not his girlfriend" she muttered to the ground mostly.

"Well, you two seem quite cosy"

"I said, go away Mycroft." Sherlock glared coldly before twisting on his heels "Let's go Esmeralda" This time he said it with a warm smile, as he directed her to their table.

"I'm watching you Sherlock. Goodbye, Miss Valentina."

Instead of replying, Sherlock beckoned him away with a vacant wave of his hand.

"I'm sorry about that"

"It's fine, really. You have quite an interesting family" She replied politely "I'm just wondering, how did Mycroft know my surname?"

"It's clear that you weren't just wondering, it's really bugging you. Anyway, Mycroft hold a minor position in the government, which means that he has access to...classified information. And by minor position, I mean he runs it." Sherlock said, without really any thought.

"Wow, that's amazing! What do you do?"

"I'm a consulting detective." Sherlock stated with a small grin. Esme opened her mouth to say something however Sherlock spoke first "Before you ask, yes, I am the only consulting detective in the world as far as I know and I basically help the police when they can't solve a case."

"That's totally awesome! And then I'm just here, being a boring old artist"

"Correction: A boring old _great _artist"

"Was that a compliment I heard?" She smirked cheekily

"It may have _sounded_ like one."

"But was it?" She pressed

"I think it just might have been. Consider yourself lucky." He grinned.

"I do." Esme smiled playfully.

The waitress came over with the bill and Esme just managed to catch sight of it.

"_£572.80_" She mouthed with wide eyes. "Wow, how much did that wine cost? Sherlock, are you sure you can afford this because I don't mind splitting-"

"Money is not a problem for me Esmeralda. Anyway, what kind of man who I be letting you pay?"

"Thank you."

Sherlock left over a handful of notes on the table, before holding out his arm for Esme.

...

"Thank you for a wonderful evening, Sherlock."

"It was purely my pleasure Esmeralda"

"Do you think we will be seeing each other again soon?" She asked cautiously.

_I would love to Esme._

"I would like to hope so Esmeralda" He smiled before turning away, down the steps.

_Damn, him! Not committing himself to any promises._

_"_Till the next time Sherlock"

"Goodnight, Miss Valentina"

**Thank you to everyone who has just read my story, even if you haven't reviewed, the time you took to read it was more than enough praise for my ego :)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I don't know if it's just me, but this chapter feels kind of filler-ish because the next one is going to be a bit more thicker in terms of the plot line. Apologies in advance :)**

**Chapter 4**

"So..." John started as Sherlock entered the flat; Sherlock rolled his eyes, already knowing where John was heading "How did it go?"

"How did what go?" Sherlock said, trying to evade John's prying questions. "Don't try and play dumb Sherlock, it really doesn't suit you." John said wittily. Sherlock stuck his tongue in childish distaste. This time it was John's turn to roll his eyes. "C'mon Sherlock tell me something! What was your date like? The suspense is killing me!" John was evidently getting desperate.

"Really? Maybe you should see a doctor about that" Sherlock smirked at his joke "And it wasn't a date. It was dinner with a friend." He didn't even believe himself.

"How was it? Did you enjoy yourself? No embarrassing moments?" John pressed straight on. Sherlock sighed, knowing he wasn't going to quit anytime soon "It was fine John. I picked her up, we had dinner and talked and then I took her home. End of." Sherlock exhaled a sharp breath. "You make it sound as if I'm a thirteen year old whose just come back from their first date."

"So you admit it was a date, then?"

"I give up." Sherlock removed his gloves and tucked them into his coat pocket as usual, before taking off his winter coat.

"What about Esmeralda, what was she like?"

Sherlock gave a quick glance from behind his lashes at John before saying "That Esme to you." He ran his hand hastily through his hair.

John raised an eyebrow "Already figured out nicknames have we? What's yours? Sherly?" John laughed, tears almost streaming out of his eyes.

"Don't piss me off John." Sherlock continued "Esme is fine."

"What does she look like?" John questioned, dying to know every relevant detail.

Sherlock marched over and stopped about three steps away from his flatmate and said "John, as much as I would _love_ to continue revealing my entire private life to you, I think'll I pass, tonight thanks." Sherlock flung himself down onto his couch and stared at the blank television screen.

"_Sherlock_. I just want to know about the woman you are dating. I'm happy for you, really." John said with all sincerity in his eyes.

_Damn his bloody kind heart._

"You have four questions and that's it." Sherlock said quickly, before he ended up changing his mind.

"What does she look like?"

"Tall, taller than you anyway, about 5ft 10. Really pale, quite petite and curly ginger-red hair."

"She sounds quite pretty" Sherlock decided to ignore this comment completely.

"Next."

"What does she do for a living?"

"She's an artist" Sherlock thought for a second before adding "A great artist"

"Talk about singing her praises!" Sherlock ignored this too.

John looked slightly apprehension about his next question. Sherlock picked up on that, but thought against saying anything. "D'ya think that... you know...you and Esme would want to double date with me and Sarah?" John asked without any real hope "When I told Sarah she was so excited and she really wants to meet her." John tried to play the pity card.

"Most definitely not!" Sherlock looked scandalized. "John, I swear you gossip more than a bunch of lonely old women in a supermarket"

"Not like you would be familiar with a supermarket anyway..." John retorted.

"What on Earth do you think could have possessed me to make me say yes?"

"Love, perhaps?" John grinned like an idiot.

"No."

"Ok, ok. Finally," "Thank God." John paused for effect "Are you feeling anything for her?"

"Well gosh John don't you just ask the simplest questions..." Sherlock muttered

"Sherlock, I'm being serious! She isn't just going to wind up being some toy that you play with when you get bored, is she?"

"Damn! I don't know, we've only been on one date. " John smiled in silent victory. "I haven't thought that far into the future."

"Coming from the man that usually 100 steps ahead of everyone."

"But, she's intriguing, I'll admit. There's something about Esmeralda, that I can't quite put my finger on." By now, Sherlock was in deep thought.

"I know that."

"Really?" Sherlock had snapped out of his temporary trance and now looked increasingly suspicious "How so?"

"Every time you say her name or talk about her or even when you're thinking about her" John paused "You smile ever so slightly and your eyes get just a little softer." John said, a smile spreading from ear-to-ear.

After a moment of silence, the tips of Sherlock's ear went pink and he dismissed John with a mutter of "Oh, shut up."

**Thank you for reading! Next Chapter coming soon!**

** Special thanks to mundy for the really kind review and to bookwormiie for their review :) **

** You don't need to review if you don't want to, just reading it makes my ego inflate more than enough!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"I've got it!" Sherlock spun around in joy as he spoke to John "He must have buried him at the nearest park to the scene of the crime, which would be" Sherlock thought for a second "Hyde Park. It's the only place within a 2 mile radius that he could have dragged him to and hidden his remain inconspicuously. I'll start heading to the park now, you go check out his wife, because I do not trust her!"

Sherlock bounded down the stairs in a fit of energy, with his new case he was definitely back on form.

He held out his arm for a former non-existent taxi that seemed to appear from thin air. Bending over to get down to the driver's level, he said "Hyde Park. I'll give you the directions." Sherlock opened the door without waiting for a reply and climbed in. "Look mate, I don't need your directions to the park. I know the ways thanks" The driver said quite haughtily, taking one last drag of his cigarette before throwing it out of the taxi window.

"You may know the way, but I know the fast way and I would appreciate it if you didn't smoke in the first place, thanks" Sherlock said with a slightly venomous tone "Now step on it I have places to be, people to see."

...

20 minutes and a few swear words later Sherlock was at Hyde park.

He turned around, taking in his surroundings and assessing where would be the most likely criminal burial site.

He decided to start off in the children's play area, most likely behind the swings and next the benches.

Sherlock crouched to feel the wood chippings that surrounded the play set. The top layer was bone dry and worn. He pushed aside the wood and carefully ran his hand along the new layer of soil.

_"Freshly turned! Just as I suspected" _he murmured quietly to himself.

Sherlock stood up and look around again.

_"If he was buried here, he must have come in from the east side entrance and come from behind the benches_

He walked over to the bench with spring of a new case in each step.

Ducking behind the seats to look for any scraps of clothing, perhaps hooked on a splinter of wood or drag marks along the floor, Sherlock again crouched almost being completely eclipsed by the chairs.

"Excuse me, but would you like to suggest what you think you're doing back there?" An accusative young woman's voice rang out from in front of Sherlock.

"Well, I suggest that you mind your own-" Sherlock paused as the woman came into view.

"Sherlock! What on earth are you doing here?" Esme looked around in shock.

"I could ask you the same thing," Sherlock looked at the children playing in the background "None of them belong to-"

"No...no. Why are you here?

"I'm investigating a new murder case. I believe our missing victims is located around about under the swings that those children are with." Sherlock pointed in the direction of his view.

"Sherlock, if there is a dead body under there, you can't let children play around it that's horrible! We have to tell the police."

"I have, I just sent a text to Lestrade." Sherlock pocketed his worn BlackBerry "He's the DI at Scotland Yard by the way." Sherlock continued "But a more interesting question is, why are you in a play area if you have no children? Would you like to tell me or should I work it out myself?" Sherlock asked curiously.

"Damn. It's sort of weird, " Esme sat on the bench and Sherlock joined her "but I like the sound of children laughing and playing while I'm drawing. I never had a brother or sister to play with when I was younger so I was constantly in play areas with other children. " Esme paused "I guess I've never grown out of them, it's relaxing here" Esme let out a soft chuckle.

"So what are you drawing now then?" Sherlock asked gently.

Esme turned her canvas around to reveal a stunningly vivid and realistic painting of a human heart. The strong red paint shone out against the crisp white background.

"That's beautiful." Sherlock admired the artwork "But not quite right."

"Which bit?"

"The left atrium should be slightly smaller and the aorta should be a bit bigger."

"Say what?" Esme held a puzzled look on her face

"Just pass the paintbrush here" Sherlock waved his hand about.

"Are you sure Sherlock?" Esme looked skeptical Sherlock's artistic skills

"Yes. Now pass it" Esme handed over the brush, still unsure.

Carefully, Sherlock stroked the brush along the canvas, correcting any mistakes he didn't see fit and making sure that each part was in proportion to the next, much to Esme's awe.

"I didn't know that you could paint Sherlock." Esme whispered softly.

"I can't."

"Stop lying to yourself!" She laughed a musical laugh, gently hitting Sherlock on the shoulder. "And all this time, I thought you were a man of science. Don't worry Sherlock, I'll keep your secret." Esme winked playfully at him.

Sherlock smiled sarcastically. "Well seeing as you helped me, I guess this isn't just mine anymore." She whispered as she signed "Sherlock Holmes and Esmeralda Valentina" in a beautiful fanciful writing.

Esme smiled at Sherlock and looked longingly to his eyes and he looked straight back, this time not with his usual cold scathing glare but with a warm open beam.

"Here." Esme thrust the painting into Sherlock's gloved hands.

"Esme. I can't take this, I know how much each of your paintings mean to you." Sherlock placed the painting back onto her lap.

"Yes, but this isn't my painting." Esme gave it back to Sherlock "It's our painting and I want you to have it. Our heart..."

"Thank you." Sherlock stood up to leave.

"Take care of it."

"I promise."

...

"Hello Sher-" John dodged in front of his flatmate, trying to dart into his room.

"What's that you've got there?" John asked inquistively.

"It's exactly none of your business-" Sherlock started but then John snatched the canvas out his skinny arms.

"BE BLOODY CAREFUL WITH THAT!" Sherlock screamed in a raging anger at John's heavy-handedness.

"Sherlock I didn't mean to-" John began to hand the painting back to Sherlock, but he stalked away into the kitchen calling out "Just look at it, ok? You've probably seen already now..." Sherlock trailed off, embarrassed at his previous sudden emotional outburst.

"You and Esme drew this?" John asked in wonderment.

"Well, Esme drew most of it. I just helped to correct some minor factual issues"

"It's beautiful and..."

"That's what I said" Sherlock told John truthfully.

"You actually complimented something that someone else did?"

"It's possible."

"It's really sweet Sherlock." Sherlock said nothing this time.

"But you do realize what this most likely means to Esme, right?" John nodded slowly to see if Sherlock agreed.

Sherlock looked directly at John, almost as if he was trying to find the answer in John's eyes, but found nothing.

"Think about exactly what she just gave you."

Sherlock thought for a moment before saying "Oh shit."

John nodded in agreement.

"Esme just gave you her heart."

**TBC**

**Oh my gosh. I am so happy with this chapter, it's unreal! Thanks for reading, I'm expecting to post the next chapter within a week's time :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"You'd better not screw this up Sherlock." John warns severely, giving Sherlock a pointed look.

"Why thank you for your wise words of wisdom" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm being deadly serious Sherlock!" John exclaimed "This girl seems to be one of the best things that has happened to you. I mean, just look at you!" John pointed at you "You always glowing now. I think you've even started being a bit nicer to Anderson."

"Don't get ahead of yourself now."

John decided to continue anyway "Do you feel like your relationship is becoming serious?"

"John, why exactly are you playing councillor? We've only seen each other the best of three times." Sherlock reminded John briefly.

"So?"

"So, things don't happen that fast, do they?" Sherlock actually seemed unsure.

"Ever heard of love at first sight?"

"Yes and it's complete nonsense."

"Really?"

"What...?" Sherlock thought for a couple of seconds

"Oh, no." Sherlock shook his head vigorously "I'm not in love with that girl."

"Your cheeks beg to differ."

"Shut up John." Sherlock said venomously.

The sound of the downstairs door opening and closing filled the room.

"Mrs Hudson doesn't have an visitors coming today." Sherlock muttered, moving closer to the door. John guessed that he had looked in her planner but he then said "When she's having visitors she usually comes up her to tell me to behave or something" Sherlock waved his hand but John noted this as fact.

"Who would it be then?" John assumed Sherlock wasn't expecting anyone today. Fast, soft footsteps bounced off the walls of 221B Baker Street.

Sherlock, now only steps away from the door said "Whoever that is, is female, around 22-27 years old, quite light and agile I think-"

Sherlock was cut off as the door flung wide open. Running straight into, and tumbling over Sherlock, Esme tried to catch her feet as Sherlock tried, in vain, to put an arm around her waist to anchor her.

Neither attempts succeeded.

However Esme successfully managed to bring Sherlock Holmes right down to the floor, landing right on top of him in the process, John stood back helplessly.

Still laying on top of him and breathing heavily from her run from her house to Sherlock's flat, Esme said hoarsely "Sherlock...I need your help."

* * *

><p>"Might I suggest that you let go of me first then?" Sherlock suggested, referring to their current situation.<p>

"Oh..yeah. Sorry about that." Esme blushed as she stood up. Sherlock brought himself back up to normal level. He coughed awkwardly, much to John's amusement, "Right then. What are you requiring my assistance with?"

"Well, I- Sherlock would you like to introduce me to your friend?" She asked politely, looking in the direction of John.

"What are you-" He followed her trail of sight "Oh, John! Well, I'm sure that he can introduce himself."

John smiled kindly "Hello, Dr. John Watson, Sherlock's flatmate", he offered an outstretched hand. Esme returned the greeting and with a warm smile said "Esmeralda Valentina, artist" She grinned even more enthusiastically. "I know, I've seen some of your work" He motioned toward the heart painting that now hung proudly on the wall above the mantle and Sherlock's prized skull. "So you are taking care of it? I have admit, I was doubtful Sherlock." "I made a promise didn't I?" He winked cheekily in Esme's direction.

"Now you have a problem?" Sherlock inquired

"Yes, I think I do," Esme paused "I think I'm being followed" Her voice reduced down to a mere whisper, as if her stalker was behind her this very moment.

"Well of course you're being followed"

Both John and Esme turned to look at Sherlock with incredulous eyes.

"What?" She asked, unnervingly calm.

"You being followed by my brother, Mycroft. Remember we briefly meet him at the restaurant?"

"Why would he be doing that?" Esme's voice was steadily rising.

"Because he's seen that you have been spending an increased amount of time around me."

"So he stalks me?" Esme clarified.

"Yes to put it bluntly. He says it's out of concern but personally, I just think he's a nosy prick."

"That's not very nice Sherlock. He just cares about your welfare." Esme reprimanded himself with a stern look.

Sherlock seemed to shrink slightly and mumbled an inaudible sound of disagreement.

John nodded his head in approval of Esme.

"Seeing as I'm not _really _being stalked" Esme rolled her eyes disdainfully "I'll be off, it was delightful meeting you John"

"As you Esmeralda."

"I have a query before leave Esme" Sherlock turned to face her fully "How exactly did you find my flat? I've never told you, I don't think."

Sherlock knew that he never had, but decided to be relatively polite.

"I found it on your website, The Science of Deduction." She smiled "You're not the only one who can do a bit of detective work ever now and then." She winked happily in Sherlock's direction, sending his heart into a flutter. Not that he would admit it anyway.

"Now, I have a question for you" She look at him straight in his eyes "That skull of yours... Is it real?" Her face gave away nothing.

John held a bated breath, worried that if Sherlock gave the true answer, Esme would run away straight in the other direction.

Sherlock thought carefully then said "Yes. It is."

Esme's face slowly contorted in a wide grin "That's excellent!" She jumped up in glee "I've been looking for a human skull to sketch for a while now, but they are seldom hard to come across" She sighed "Where did you get yours?"

Both John and Sherlock held looks of absolute shock.

"Old friend of mine. He donated his body from medical uses after his sudden death."

"How kind of him! Do you think that I could come round sometime to draw it? We could do it together...?" Esme's voice trailed off, asking for approval.

"How about tomorrow?"

"Great!" Esme smiled

"See you later Esmeralda"

"It's a date"

Sherlock closed the door and turned to face John, grinning with no shame whatsoever.

"She's perfect for you Sherlock."

**Well I've already written Chapter 7 but I need to write it up (It's in my notebook sleeping at the moment) and edit it so be expecting that soon :)**

**It's 1196 words but it seems shorter than that. Hope you liked this chapter anyway!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

"Go away." Sherlock tried to shoo John away from the flat. "Why can't I stay, I'll be upstairs in my room anyway. This is my flat to-" John argued against Sherlock. "I don't care John, go and play with Sarah or something." Sherlock pushed John out of the front door and threw out his keys. Remember that it was nearing December and a sick John means an irritated John, especially if a certain person made him sick in the first place, Sherlock also left John's coat outside the door as well.

Relieved of his flatmate, Sherlock ran up the stairs to the bathroom to have a shower and get changed out of his pajamas before Esme arrived.

15 minutes later, after hearing a knock, Sherlock casually walked back down the steps, now fully dressed, and opened the door. Esme entered into 221B Baker Street wearing a vintage t-shirt, grey cardigan, black leggings and thoroughly worn in converses.

"Hello Sherlock!" Esme flung her arms around his neck in a kind hug and Sherlock returned the favour by slowly wrapping his arms around her waist, as if he was just waiting for disapproval "Hello Esmeralda." He smiled politely.

Esme looked Sherlock up and down, taking in his attire before saying "Why are you wearing that?" pointing at his slim cut emperor Armani suit and his deep purple shirt. Sherlock slightly bruised by her unkind comment replied "What wrong with it?"

"Hello? That suit and shirt look really nice and _expensive_. We're painting today and as you know I'm not exactly the best at keeping things neat" She smiled apologetically.

"Don't worry I really don't mind" He lied, that was his favourite most prized suit and he absolutely loved that soft cotton shirt.

"Don't you try and lie to me Sherlock Holmes" She winked "You go and get changed and I'll start setting things up down here"

Sherlock mouthed a quick thank you, for the saving of his suit and went upstairs and shut his door behind him.

Sherlock potted up and down his room contemplating what would be most appropriate. He was usually used to being looking well tailored and now he had to appear casual instead.

He eventually decided on a modified version of an outfit that he had seen a young man wearing. Putting on a black v-neck t-shirt, chinos that Mycroft had bought him on his 25th birthday and white converses from his uni days that Sherlock had sworn he would never wear again, Sherlock strode over to his full sized "vanity central" as John like to call it, mirror.

_Not half bad if I might say so myself._

He reached the bottom floor and spun around "What do think now?"

"Most suited to the occasion Mr. Holmes" Esme spoke in a fake posh accent.

"Why thank you Miss. Valentina." He played along dutifully.

"Now how do we get started?" Sherlock asked, unsure how to begin.

"Well, first of all, that skull can't remain on the mantle, it's much too high up" She walked over to the mantle and looked back at Sherlock for his approval to touch it; he gave a small nod "I think it would be best on the rug, then we could sit on the floor. It would give us the best angle."

"That's fine by me"

Esme placed the skull snugly into the heavier piled rug and sat cross-legged on the floor, patting the space next to her indicating Sherlock to join her.

He mimicked her position and then asked "What do we do next?"

"Draw a top, middle and bottom line on the page, so that we know where we are drawing"

She stroked three lines across the canvas in a fluid motion.

"Then we draw the rough outline of the skull to give us some guidelines as to were the eyes sockets, teeth etcetera are going to be."

She picked up her pencil again and slowly etched in the shape and form of the skull, looking back and forth between the page and the object. However, when she had gotten halfway through, she handed the pencil over to Sherlock.

Bemused, he asked "What am I meant to do?"

"I said we were going to do this _together _you have to draw the other half."

Happy at his new challenge, Sherlock drew his side paying meticulous attention to Esme's side as he sketched, making sure it was exactly symetrical.

"Done."

"It's...not half bad."

_"Not half bad?"_ Sherlock mimicked "I think someone is lying."

"Fine, it's really good. Have I boosted you ego enough?" Esme muttered sarcastically.

"Not quite. Try again later." They both let out a dry chuckle.

"We need start on the finer details, like his eye and nose sockets and then the teeth."

She reached into her pocket and gave Sherlock her spare pencil

"Now we can both draw at the same time." She smiled.

They put their heads down and started from the top with the eyes, occasionally glancing at their opposite half, making sure that they were both perfect, adjusting each other's slightly when needed.

"Perfect." They both said at the same time. Laughing, Esme clicked open her case.

"Paint time!" Esme wiggled in glee, Sherlock simply smiled at her childishness.

"I think that we should lay out some newspaper. John would kill me if we got paint on the carpet!" Sherlock torn out pages of an old Metro and spread them out across the floor. Esme brought a large palate and squirted out a luxurious amount of black and white poster paint next to each other. Mixing them together in the middle, leaving three colours.

"There you are Mr. Holmes." She said handing him a small tipped paintbrush.

"Thank you," Sherlock had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes "I'll show you how this is done"

"Really?" Esme let out a bored yawn.

Sherlock dipped his brush into the paint, not wiping off the excess paint, Sherlock stroked his brush across the canvas too fast, causing the paint to flick out Esme's face, much to her surprise.

"Sherlock! You idiot!" Esme grabbed her paintbrush, dipped it in the paint and flicked it in Sherlock's direction, getting white paint in his jet black curls.

"You have no idea what you just started." Sherlock grinned.

"Bring it."

Sherlock ran over and grabbed a bottle of paint and click the lid off.

"You wouldn't dare."

Sherlock sprayed the paint across her clothes, howling sounds of laughter, not noticing Esme picking up a can of bright blue paint and throwing it straight in Sherlock's face.

Wiping the majority of the paint off his face, Sherlock ducked behind the couch. Esme looked around wondering where Sherlock had disappeared to, as he crept behind.

Holding the bottle upside above her head behind her, Sherlock tapped on her shoulder. She spun across, almost face to face with Sherlock as he squeezed the bottle tight, releasing a downpour of green paint into her hair.

She shrieked and ran across the room, picking up a bottle of red paint from her case.

Both armed, with loaded containers of paint they stood at the ready.

"I'll surrender, if you do." Sherlock said, between fits of laughter. "On the count of three, we both drop them. One...Two...Three!"

Neither surrendered and both proceeded cover the other with the last of their emulsion. "I knew you wouldn't stop!" She pointed a finger of accusation.

"Neither did you!"

Looking around themselves, they realized that that they had managed to pretty much cover almost everything around them in paint, including themselves.

"Mrs. Hudson is going to have a stroke, if she comes in here!"

"We should probably clean this up" Esme tried to be serious, but failed miserably.

They both sat back down on the floor, cross-legged again.

Esme leaned against Sherlock's shoulder, and at first he tensed up at her touch but slowly started to relax.

"I've had so much fun today Sherlock." Esme said, her voice quite soft.

"So did I Esmeralda." Sherlock thought again for a second "I really enjoyed your company."

* * *

><p>"So what have they been like then, Mrs Hudson?" John asked apprehensively<p>

"Well, they was a bit of noise coming from up there a while ago, but they seemed to have settled down a bit in the last few hours."

John nodded and looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight, so he said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson before departing up the stairs to 221B Baker Street. Hoping that Esme had left already so that he could have a bath in peace, he opened the door.

John's eyes grew as wide as dish plates.

"Oh My God."

John whispered as he looked around the flat is utter disbelief. The usually beautiful wall-papered walls, had been covered in splatters of different colour paint and as had most of the furniture. Why could he not safely leave Sherlock alone without him causing some type of expensive damage to the flat?

Ready to give a verbal lecture to Sherlock on why paint should not be sprayed onto chairs and televisions, John called out.

"Sherlock! I'm bac-" John quickly hush his voice, as he looked at the where the rug was.

Sat on the floor, backs against the couch, was Sherlock and Esme both layered from head to toe in paint. They had both, at some point fallen asleep and Esme was leaning against him for support and he had placed his painted mops of curls on her shoulder. They both looked equally comfortable in each other's presence, quietly snoring away in peace. In front of them was a magnificent painting of Sherlock's favored skull, still drying, with paintbrushes left next to it.

_What on earth is he wearing? _John thought, remembering that he had never seen Sherlock dress this casually, in chinos and converse, however John had to admit, it suited him quite well.

Deciding this was an opportunity not to be missed, John took a quick photograph on his phone, for future use against him.

John left upstairs to the confinement of his room, but not before he said

"You are a _very_ lucky man Sherlock Holmes."

**TBC**

**Wow. This is the longest chapter I have ever written at almost 2000 words! Thank you for reading , Chapter 8 is coming soon, but Chapter 9 will be a biggie! So Leave a review for a sneak peek of chapter 9!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

The scent of sandalwood and vanilla filled Sherlock's nostrils as the woman sleeping next to him stirred in her sleep.

_"Wait, what?"_

Sherlock's eyes shot open as he looked around to discover that he and Esme had fallen asleep together on the floor after they finished the painting.

Still covered in now dry paint from yesterday's war, Sherlock thought it best to remain on the floor, until Esme woke up, not wanting to disturb her. They hadn't finished the piece until well past 11.

Eventually Esme wriggled more and more until she opened her eyes.

"Good morning." Sherlock's deep voice cascaded around her ears.

She jumped up in surprise, stumbling over the newspapers that carelessly littered the floor, in a sleepy haze.

Sherlock sprang up and set a firm arm around her waist, "Careful now." He set her back on her feet.

"Thanks." She mumbled gratefully.

Sherlock smiled and said "Esme?" She waited for him to continue "You've got a bit of paint on you." He let out a small chuckle.

Running a hand through her hair she replied "Oh really Sherlock? I hadn't even notice." She rolled her eyes playfully. "Would you mind if I took a shower here? I'm really not up for walking home with paint in my hair."

"Sure, go ahead. Upstairs, second door on the right." She nodded thankfully before bounding up the stairs.

Once Sherlock had heard the sound of the bathroom door closing shut, he fell back onto the couch.

Now running his hands through his hair as he heard the sound of the shower start; he ran through in his mind what happened last night.

He had to admit, he had never had better time while in the company of another human before. Yesterday, with Esme was so relaxing and enjoyable.

Sure, he thought she was beautiful but did that really mean anything? But then again, he didn't think he had ever laughed that much before. Esme simply brought a smile to his face. She was so... perfect.

But was that love? He didn't know. He had never been in love before. Esme made him happy and feel good, so isn't that enough?

"Sherlock?" Knee deep in his thoughts, he hadn't even noticed her come downstairs. "Could I borrow one of your shirts, mine's a bit messed up?" Esme stood at the entrance to the living wrapped up to under her arms in a fluffy baby blue towel.

"Yeah," He looked at the almost shivering figure "I'll just go and get that now." He lead her upstairs and darted into his bedroom. Going through his wardrobes, he picked out his smallest slim cut shirt and handed it to her. "Thanks." He walked out, shutting the door behind himself, however Sherlock didn't hear the sound of the lock clicking shut, guessing that Esme trusted him not to enter.

Stalking off downstairs, Sherlock decided to make himself useful - by making breakfast. After a grueling root through the fridge, he managed to fish out a pack of bacon and a couple of eggs. Although it was not an easy job, Sherlock successfully discovered a clean (brand new and unused) frying pan but then realized there was no oil. Sherlock chose to opt for butter instead saying "They are both lipids, what difference can it make?"

"I smell something good!" Esme sauntered down the stairs and straight to the kitchen. Sherlock noted that even though his shirt was far too big for her, she still wore it quite well.

"Who said it was for you?" He mocked her happily. "Don't be a greedy pig!" She hopped over a grabbed a piece of bacon off the pan, Sherlock shook his head as it almost burnt her fingertips.

"Plate. Quick, where are the plates?" She desperately searched for a dish, while throwing the sizzling bacon between her hands. Sherlock snorted "Good luck finding one."

Sherlock laughed as Esme cursed and surrendered her food to the kitchen table top. "I wouldn't eat that any more if I was you," He gave her a devious smile "I split some sulfuric acid on there a couple days ago and haven't had time to clean it up yet"

Esme went over to the sink, picked up two of the cleanest plates and gave them a quick scrub with the sponge and some detergent.

"Voila! Two clean plates" She placed them on a clear bit of the worktop and dried the plates off with a bit of kitchen towel.

Carrying the pan over to her, Sherlock placed three pieces of bacon and two eggs onto her plate before returning to the stove.

"I can't eat all of this!" She whined. "Yes you can and you will." Sherlock looked genuinely concerned "You're looking a bit on the thin side anyway." She snorted "You can talk!" She poked his flat stomach, before returning to her seat and starting to wolf down her breakfast. "I am a special case!" Sherlock said proudly.

"Yeah, real special." She mocked sarcastically before bursting into fits of giggling laughter. Sherlock joined in with the commotion, chuckling away lightly.

"Hello Mrs. Hudson, that smells-" John stopped short when he realized who was actually cooking and when he look into the kitchen.

The scene was almost too picturesque to be real. The alluring classy trophy wife sat at table, her face a picture of pure beauty and happiness as her ravishing aristocratic husband stood over the cooker dutifully making breakfast for her. Both were laughing cheerfully knocking years away, particularly from Sherlock's face. With a smile like that he could easily pass for 21.

"Sherlock, why have you never shown my your amazing culinary skills?" John was quite surprised that Sherlock was managing to make a meal without burning it to a crisp. Then he realized that he had never actually seen Sherlock cook before, which made him wonder what else his flatmate could do with the right stimulus.

"You, were not worth the effort." Sherlock stuck his tongue out at him. "Is that Sherlock's shirt?" John raised a lone eyebrow. "Yes, because he" She pointed her finger at the consulting detective "managed to completely ruin mine in the space of 20 minutes."

"Hey what about me? Look about the state of my chinos! Mycroft would not be best pleased, seeing as he bought them for me." Sherlock released a dramatized sigh. "Sherlock!" She shrieked. "Calm down, I was never planning on wearing them again anyway." Esme rolled her eyes as she took her plate over to the sink, washed it and placed it on the formerly empty dish rack.

Turning around, she flung her arms around Sherlock's neck, resting her head on his shoulder she said "Thank you for breakfast and for a wonderful date." She swayed slightly as she spoke as if she was dancing. "It was my pleasure." He whispered mostly into her hair. Breaking free from their embrace, "I'll show myself out." She started to make her way across to the front door when Sherlock called out "Wait!" He darted to the living room, grabbing the canvas and his fountain pen scrawled "Esmeralda and Sherlock" along the top in his usual erratic font.

"This one most definitely belongs to you." He handed it over. "I have the heart so you get the skull."

"Thanks, it really means a lot." He nodded as he closed the door behind her. "I saw you guys." Sherlock's eyes narrowed "last night, out cold on the floor." John explained in more detail. "Well done, would you like a medal?" Sherlock had already reverted back to his usual cold self. "You looked like quite the couple just now." John tried to continue but then Sherlock said "But we are not a couple, so what does it matter?" Sherlock flounced upstairs to have a shower, indicating to John that this conversation was over.

**30 Minutes later**

"JOHN! WHAT ON EARTH HAVE YOU DONE?" Sherlock thrust his phone in John's face. It was the picture that John had taken of him and Esme sleeping, which he then posted on his blog labelled "Sleeping Sherlock...Finally."

"How could you ? Half of the yard have already seen it and 30 people have commented, look!" He used the track pad on his BlackBerry to scroll down

"Lestrade, Anderson, Donovan, it just goes on and on!"

**Thank you to Bookwormiie, TheBrightsider, Unknown, Druid Archer and Keely for reviewing! Tis much appreciated :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Ok, John. We're going to walk straight through to Lestrade's office. No stopping and no talking whatsoever." Sherlock laid out his plan carefully. "Fine, let's just go in and stop being such a drama queen." John rolled his eyes as Sherlock pushed the door open and walked into Scotland Yard.

"Oh, look Sherlock has finally awoken!" Anderson cooed with a malicious grin. "So freak, who was sleeping beauty then?" Donovan asked, John could almost see Sherlock biting his tongue, holding back a retort. He turned right into Lestrade's office without a word.

"Lestrade. You called." Sherlock got straight to the point. "Yes, I have a new case for you," He handed Sherlock a bulging blue file "It's a triple murder case, two women and a man. One is the wife of the man-" Lestrade was starting to give Sherlock the low-down on the case when Sherlock said "And when exactly do you want this done?"

"Stop messing around Sherlock" Lestrade gave him a look, and was ready to continue with his breakdown of the file when Sherlock said "Don't make me repeat myself." Sherlock's tone was ice cold and deadly.  
>"Well, today obviously." Sherlock threw the file back onto Lestrade's desk and stood up to leave. "I'm busy today."<p>

"But you never turn down a good case!" Lestrade looked outraged. "I have plans for today. I'll come and pick it up tomorrow." Sherlock already had his hand on the door knob when Lestrade asked "Do these plans involve a certain lady?" He had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. Sherlock turned around to face him.

"No." He said.

"Yes. Yes, they do." John revealed.

...

"What exactly are your plans?" John asked as Sherlock held his arm out for a taxi.

"It's Esme's birthday today."

...

Sherlock reached out and rapped on the door three times. He could hear people talking and chattering loudly through the walls. The door opened to reveal Esme smiling gleefully and wearing a devil red evening gown that accentuated her hair perfectly and seemed molded around her body with a side split that went up to at least mid thigh, and jet black high heels that almost brought to Sherlock's height.

"Happy Birthday." He smiled, then looked over her shoulder to see the people dancing on within the house. "Having a party and didn't invite me?" He joked and faked sadness. "It was a surprise party." Esme paused then said "Well come inside and join us, wouldn't want you catching pneumonia out there." Esme stepped aside to allow him in, and as she turned around Sherlock realized that her dress was almost completely backless.

"So Esme, is this the fittie whose house you slept at last week?" asked a rather short but pretty woman who had clung onto Esme's arm. "Tabby, shut up!" Esme tried to hush her up, going beetroot red in the process. Once Esme had calmed down, she introduced the women to him "Sherlock, this is Dr. Tabitha Lyons, she's my best friend, we met at uni." Sherlock nodded "Tabby, this is Sherlock Holmes, he's a _consulting_ detective and... a good friend of mine."

Tabitha and Sherlock shook hands briefly before Tabitha said "I'm not actually a doctor by the way, I'm a dentist and call me, Tabby." Tabitha gave him a smile a bit too wide for comfort. He turned away from her to Esme, and said "Your present." He felt around in his trouser pocket for the navy blue box that had been burning against his leg all day.

He retrieved it and handed it over. "Tiffany & Co? Sherlock how much did you spend on this?"

_Enough to burn a sizable hole in Mycroft's wallet"_ Sherlock thought.

"That is completely irrelevant, now open it already."

She clicked open the box to reveal a stunning 18 carat gold necklace with two intertwined hearts, one of them plain gold, the other encrusted with tiny sparkling diamonds. Esme's mouth hung open as she took in her gift, then she pulled Sherlock into a tight hug. "Thank you." Her voice wavered slightly "Yeah, don't you start crying on me!" Sherlock pulled away and picked the necklace, Esme pulled her hair up and Sherlock clasped the chain around her neck. Friends gathered around to gush over her newest present, which Esme modeled admirably, patiently waiting as everyone stood and stared at it in awe and perhaps with a twinge of jealously.

However, when Sherlock started to walk away to the drinks table, then crowd started to chant.

"Dance with her! Dance with her!"

Esme turned to Sherlock and asked for his agreement with a roll of her eyes. Sherlock shrugged and held out his arm for her as he walked towards the makeshift dancefloor in the middle of her living room. The DJ changed songs from the previous upbeat dance song to a tango song.

Esme walked towards him, swaying her hips slowly to the beat. Grasping his hand with her and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, Sherlock placed his spare hand on her waist.

Starting by slowing stepping to the beat, Esme and Sherlock moved together along the floor as one, reaction to the movements of their partner in time.

Then they took hold of both of each other hands, taking three steps before changing directions twice in a quick fluid motion. Still holding hands, Esme twisted around him, so that his arms were crossed against her as her back faced his chest, with a small shimmy Esme twirled out his grasp.

Now on the other side of the floor, Esme swung her hips in circles, smiling over her shoulder at him, almost daring Sherlock to join her. With a few steps, Sherlock was pressed up against her and with his hands on her back, they started again, taking short but rhythmic steps. Esme felt her heart beat increase rapidly but she didn't think it was from the dancing.

Focusing solely on each other, Sherlock and Esme glided along the floor in perfect unison, as the captivated crowd watched in silent suspense. As the music finished, Sherlock twisted Esme's arm, sending her spinning in graceful circles before clasping one last time and dipping Esme low to the ground.

Esme's hand that was on Sherlock's shoulder slowly moved up to the side of his face. As they both drew themselves back to their full heights, neither noticed as the crowd around them erupted in applause.

With her hand still on his face, Esme took a deep breath and pulled him closer to her, until their lips met. Instinctively they both moved closer as Esme intertwined her arms around his shoulders.

Then Sherlock's phone rang.

He broke away, desperately searching Esme's eyes before reaching into his pocket and answering his phone.

"Yes?" He asked slightly breathless. "Sherlock, I need you down here now! There's been a fourth murder and we need you, I don't care what plans you had!" Lestrade hung up on him just as quickly as he had answered.

"I'm sorry." Sherlock whispered to Esme before darting off into the crowd. Esme went after him, weaving in between the people she called out "Sherlock! Wait!" He continue pacing through the crowd, until he reached the front door, flinging it wide open and shuffling the steps, waving his arm out for a taxi.

Unable to run in her heels, Esme tried as fast as she could to catch him up but by the time she reached the steps, Sherlock's taxi had already gone half way down her street.

Sitting down on the steps to her house, Esme's bottom lip began to quivering as she shivered in the cold winter wind still saying "Sherlock,wait...please."

**Review?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

"Sherlock? Hello?" John waved a lazy hand in front of his face. "Yes?" John could swore that Sherlock had almost hissed. "Lestrade's been calling your name for a bit now." He pointed in the direction of where the DI was standing, now talking to Anderson. Sherlock strode over to Lestrade "What do you want?" He didn't beat around the bushes at all. Slightly taken back by Sherlock's tone he said "You need to take a look at the body for me. Maybe you could get a feeling of the character of our suspect."

"But you see, you are wrong there Lestrade." Sherlock said his name with a slight sneer "I don't _need _to do anything for you. You _want _me too." Sherlock's eyes narrowed to mere slits "You and I both know that you wouldn't be a detective inspector today, if it wasn't for all the cases _I _solved under _your name._" And with a swirl of his coat, Sherlock sauntered of towards the latest crime scene, leaving John, Lestrade and Donovan completely astonished. "I am... so sorry about him, Greg." John apologized sincerely to him about darting off after Sherlock. "But, Sir, you can't possibly let him talk to you like that. You are in charge of him!" Donovan said extremely outraged. Lestrade shook his head "You're right," Donovan smiled "but he is too. I do need him and sometimes I don't appreciate him as much as I truly should."

"What was all that about?" John asked, genuinely shocked at Sherlock's behavior. "Lestrade takes advantage of the fact that I help him." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Don't try and lay it out that way Sherlock." John warned harshly, making Sherlock do a double take. "You know that you gain just as much as Lestrade does from solving all these cases and you've never asked for them to go under your name." John huffed as he finished his rant. "That's right. Support him." Sherlock said, eager to have the last word.

"Victim is 30 years old. No, not 30, she's 35. She lives in around the Devon area-" Sherlock was cut off by Donovan's echoing voice which boomed out "Wrong, freak." Sherlock spun around on his heels to face her. "What?" He cocked his head to the side.

"I said you're wrong," Donovan walked over to the dead woman and bent down to remove her oyster card from her pocket. "Oyster card, in Devon? I just had it checked up, she lived in Finsbury Park and worked near London Bridge." Donovan smiled an devious grin "Every weekday she got the Victoria line to Euston station and changed onto the Northern line to London Bridge."

Sherlock look horrified. "You're right." He barely whispered "Oh but of course. Look at the sole of her shoes, she walked from the station to the cafe where she worked."

"I think you're finally losing it, freak."

...

"Alright, what happened?" John asked quietly as they sat in the back of a taxi back to Baker Street "Ever since you came from Esme's house, you've been on edge. So what happened?" Sherlock sighed, realizing that it would probably be best to get it off his chest.

"I went to her house and she was having a party and invited me in." He started off tentatively. "Ok, then what?" John pressed. "I gave Esme her birthday present, a gold necklace with diamonds on it, which she and her friends loved." Sherlock continued to replay the day's events. "Good, but?"

"We danced together for a while, which was fine." Sherlock nodded to himself stared vacantly ahead. "Until?" John sensed that something was going to come up. "We kissed."

"Ahh. I see." John had a strange image of Sherlock kissing Esme, but it seemed oddly right.

"Then Lestrade ordered me to the crime scene." Sherlock continued. "That would explain your sudden anger towards him."

"Then I ran away. Quite literally, with barely a word I ran out and got a taxi." Sherlock sighed and gazed out of the window. "Sherlock..." John started, but then he went on. "I saw her sitting on the steps to her house crying as the taxi drove off."

This time John said nothing and choose to continue listening instead.

"You know how you told me not to mess around what me and Esme had?" John nodded, almost knowing what was coming.

"Well, I think that in the space of an evening I've managed to completely screw it up."

...

There was a knock on the door. Seeing as Sherlock had been in a near comatose state on his couch for about the past week now, John assumed that he wasn't about to answer the door now. "Don't burden yourself Sherlock, I'll get it!" No reply. John sighed, but was not at all surprised. Sherlock hadn't moved, since they had got back from the impromptu crime scene last week, let alone eaten or spoken. John was getting extremely worried that his body was going to shut down from serious malnutrition. Sherlock was even managing to look paler than usual.

"Oh, well hello Esme." John coughed at the awkwardness of his situation. Sherlock now stood bolt straight in the living room.

"Hello John!" Esme said nonchalantly, smiling comfortably. "Would you mind giving these to Sherlock when you see him?" She handed him Sherlock's shirt that she had been wearing the last time she was at the flat and a gold necklace.

"No need." Sherlock said smoothly over John's shoulder, who swiftly handed the items back to Esme, decided that his presence was unwanted and left upstairs to his room. "Sherlock." Esme said calmly, the smile on her face had now vanished.

Sherlock turned and returned deep into the living room, forcing Esme to follow after him. "Here." She dumped the pile onto the coffee table and turned away to leave but then Sherlock picked up the necklace. "Why are you giving this to me? This is yours." Sherlock attempted to put the chain back around her neck but she bat his hand away. "I don't need your fanciful gifts Sherlock."

"Esme, I am really sorry." Sherlock said softly. "Yeah, I know. You said that already." Esme stared at the wall behind him, not able to look at Sherlock himself. "When...we kissed, I was confused, surprised, scared I don't know. But I do know that I didn't mean to hurt you." He said with complete honesty.

"Well then you failed miserably because you did hurt me Holmes." Sherlock cringed at her use of his last name. "I kissed you because I wanted to show you how I felt, how much I cared for you. Obviously that isn't reciprocated seeing as you quite literally left me."

"I left because I was worried. I'm not exactly low maintenance, I might not talk for days, I might ignore you and I'll probably be rude most of the time but I can't change that." Sherlock sighed then continued "Then there's my job. They are a dozens of people out there just waiting for a chink to appear in my armour." Sherlock turned to look directly at her. "I don't want you to be that chink. I don't want you to go into something with me without fully understanding the implications, ok?"

"I understand." Esme let out a breath and threw her head back. "Why does everything with you have to be so damn complicated?"

"Because, this is me we're talking about." Esme started to chuckling against herself and Sherlock joined in. "I don't like arguing with you." Esme revealed quietly. "Neither do I." Realizing what Sherlock had said, Esme started to laugh again. "You're just full of jokes today, aren't you Sherlock?"

Sherlock didn't reply but instead took a step closer to Esme. "And just what do you think you're doing?" She asked cautiously.

"I'm using my second chance to show you how I feel." Sherlock said slowly, taking another step forward. "And who said that you had a second chance?" Esme near whispered, already breathless at Sherlock's close proximity.

"I did." Sherlock and Esme's lips met once again, and Sherlock wrapped his arms softly around her waist as she cupped the side of Sherlock's face. The taste of whiskey cascaded around her mouth, smoky and earthy. As they both pulled away slowly, Sherlock nuzzled his head into Esme's shoulder, taking in the floral scent of her shampoo.

"I really am sorry." He said mostly into her hair. "I know you are." He lifted his head up slightly and whispered into her ear:

"I didn't mean to upset my beautiful girlfriend."

**Tada! Hope you liked it and Merry Christmas everyone and a magnificently happy new year :) **

**Thanks to Bookworm4000, TheDoctorsMistress, mundy, unknown, JessiicaFox, Bookwormiie and Alex455 for reviewing, it's much appreciated :) **

**Ta now x**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

At that moment, things were going well for Sherlock Holmes and Esmeralda Valentina. They got along just like a relatively normal couple do. He enjoyed her company and her warm aurora and she loved his witty, sometimes sarcastic but wise personality.

However, this was Sherlock Holmes we were talking about here. This state of bliss was most definitely not going to last forever.

**5 NEW EMAILS.**

**Subject: Win a brand new 50 inch television**

Sherlock wrinkled his nose, restraining himself from rolling his eyes. _What kind of feeble minded algae would believe this_ _nonsense_?

***DELETE***

**Subject: My cat has been missing for over 3 ****years**

This time, Sherlock couldn't help himself rolling his eyes disdainfully _"I'm not even going to make a comment."_

_"Honestly, the average of level of intelligence in the modern 21st century is decreasing like wildfire."_

***DELETE***

***DELETE***

***DELETE***

Sherlock paused his serial clicking to look close at one particular email. It wasn't spam or an idiot this time. "_Hmm, maybe this might be a real case. Thorough my website. That will show John and his mundane blog."_

**Subject : Your assistance is needed**

**To: Mr. S Holmes**

**I have a matter at hand that is most urgent and requires your immediate attention.**

** My son Jaspar has gone missing in Rome, Italy after what I suspect was a run in with the Mafia. Unfortunately, I believe that he may have been in trouble with the wrong people which has resulted in his abrupt disappearance. **

**However, what makes this more complicated is that I know for a fact that his girlfriend, Kathy was with him when he vanished. When I questioned her about it, she said that she had gone out when he disappeared however days later I hear her laughing and talking to her friend on the phone about how she was "Never going to have money troubles again." **

**I have a feeling that this girl is more involved in this than she lets out to be. **

**If you choose to take this case, you will receive the more intricate details later. Obviously, you will be paid a very generous sum for your services and I would be more than willing to accommodate for your stay in Italy.**

**From, **

**Ms Bryony Gables**

Sherlock lifted his head up from behind his laptop screen to look at Esme, who was lounging peacefully on his couch watching some mundane talent show.

_"She'll never let me go to Italy alone to go a tackle a potential Mafia ring."_ Sherlock thought to himself _"She can't go with me, it's too dangerous. John can't come either, he's been ranting all week about how snowed under the clinic is at the moment."_

_"So just don't tell her you're going." _Sherlock played around with the idea before he thought_ "No way. She's not going to be happy if you disappear...again." _Sherlock reasoned with himself_ "You can't let her control your life Sherlock. Work comes first, she must know that."_

"Sherlock, are you alright?" Esme was looking at him with slight worry in her eyes. Sherlock blinked twice before saying "Yes, I am fine." He lied quickly. "Really? Because it looked like you were having some sort of mental fight in your head." Esme smiled, disguising the fact that she was watching him carefully.

_Damn her female intuition._

"Nope. I'm good." Sherlock tried hard to keep his face blank, but his eyes shifted away from her gaze guiltily. Sherlock chuckled nervously before hiding his face back behind his laptop.

_Why is it that I can't hardly even lie to that woman without giving myself away? _

Esme raised an eyebrow at his suspicious behaviour but decided to stop pressing at it, as she turned away from him, and back to her show.

_"He is most definitely up to something." _Esme thought._ "I know that twat enough to know when he's up to no good"_ Esme narrowed her eyes "I_ don't like that look he has on his face." Esme mentally shook her head "He looks worried." Esme continued "And something else...He looks guilty."_ Esme concluded solidly before asking herself another question

_"What could he possibly feel that bad about and not want to tell me?" Esme pondered for a moment before her eyes widened in shock "No. He wouldn't do that. He wouldn't dare." _Esme shook her head gently _"Sherlock isn't like that, Esme. He doesn't get involved with women." _

"_But he got involved with me. I was the exception to that rule." _

_"The exception or an exception?"_

Esme looked at Sherlock, studying his face and body language, desperately trying to deduct something, just like he had done a million and one times before. But she saw nothing. Nothing but a detached and cold exterior locking away any deeper thoughts and feelings beneath his dark curls.

_"They say that the eyes are the gateway to the soul."_ Esme looked into his eyes that were trained on his laptop screen "_Well that must be a load of bullshit because I can't see anything behind his eyes."_ Esme sighed, causing Sherlock to look briefly up at her before turning back to his thoughts.

"_Just a coincidence or is a reason?"_

_"She's thinking about me." Sherlock deduced as he watched Esme stare vacantly at the television "She's trying to figure out what I was thinking about. So inquisitive."_

_"Stop being so bloody doubtful. He's my boyfriend and he's not going anywhere as long as I have a say in it."_

**COMPOSE NEW EMAIL**

**From: Mr. S Holmes**

**To: Ms B Gables**

**Will be able solve your case immediately. Send any correspondence to 221b Baker Street, London N15 SE****4 addressed to Sherlock Holmes or to my email.**

**SH**

Sherlock shut his laptop before striding upstairs to his bedroom, clicking the door closed behind himself. Sitting on his bed, Sherlock ran his hand quickly through his hair, messily ruffling his thick black curls, thinking over his elaborate plan. Then his blackberry bleeped.

**1 NEW EMAIL -**

**From: Ms. B Gables**

**To: Mr. S Holmes**

**1 attachment.**

**I have attached your e-ticket for your trip to Rome, you did state that you would help immediately, so the plane has been booked for 10:00am tonight. As for now, this is a one way ticket as it's almost impossible to predict when you will return. However, I will pay for your ticket back and have arranged for you to be staying at Hotel Piazza de Mariya. **

**Ms. Bryony Gables.**

Hastily he stood up, and unzipped the empty holdall bag that he had once use to bring his possessions first to 221B Baker Street. He flung open the doors to his wardrobe and began to neatly fold his various suits into the bottom of the bag. Then, he decided that some more casual clothes maybe needed for any situation that would require him to keep a low profile. This time, he haphazardly threw in a random array of different plain t-shirts, sweaters (Though Sherlock doubted it would be cold in Italy) and trousers. Next, were some shoes. Although had a wide range of footwear available to him, his preference was of course his prized D&G black shoes. However Sherlock understood that they were not always suited to the occasion and also placed in his white converses that he had worn on his first date with Esme and a pair of unused and pristine trainers that someone who obviously didn't know Sherlock Holmes very well, had purchased for him.

Once he had added underwear, toiletries and his passport to his luggage, Sherlock finally zipped close his now bulging bag. Then, he pressed his ear against the hard wood door of his bedroom. Silence. Sherlock guessed that Esme had fallen asleep on the sofa, as she usually did after watching TV. Sherlock shrugged on his long woolen coat and slung his holdall over his shoulder, then slowly opened his door. Sherlock padded down the stairs softly, so as to go undisturbed. As per usual, his suspicions were confirmed by the quiet snore that traveled out of the living room. Unable to help himself, Sherlock strode into the main room, to see Esme curled into a tight ball on his couch, her converses discarded by the side. Sherlock smiled and tucked a wild lock of hair back in with the rest of the curls before stooping to kiss Esme lightly on the head.

"I will be back soon. Don't lose any sleep over me, although I can see that you already aren't." Sherlock chuckled gently "I'm sorry but...I'm going to have to run away again." Sherlock turned and started to make his way towards the door when a voice called out.

"Sherlock?" He froze and then twisted on the spot slowly. "Yes...John?" Sherlock asked apprehensively calling out to John. Then John calmly appeared out the kitchen, eyeing up Sherlock suspiciously before saying "Where are you going?" John asked, staring at Sherlock's packed bag. Sherlock paused, twisting his mouth to the side and replied "Dry cleaners. My suit is absolutely filthy after running through that alleyway last week." He lied casually, looking directly at John, who looked back at him, and then looked at his watch

Believing Sherlock, John tossed his other coat to him, who caught it with ease and said "They are almost closing, so hurry. Take that for me, will you?" Sherlock smiled, almost breathing a deep sigh of relief "Sure."

And with that Sherlock Holmes turned and walked out of 221B Baker Street, not knowing that he would not be returning for quite a long time.

**THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU TO EVERYBODY WHO IS STILL READING AND WHO ADDED THIS FF TO THEIR ALERTS AND FAVED IT AND REVIEWED IT! I LOVE YOU GUYS :) I know I haven't updated for a while and I'm so sorry and I will try to update more regularly, but this is my second longest chapter that I've written :) Thanks to CompleteSolitude (Thank you I will try to finish it:), Bookwormiie (Taps side of nose:) , Bookworm4000 (Hope you had a Merry Christmas too :) TheBrightsider (Your review was sooo kind, thank you :) ****TheDoctorsMistress (No probs about no leaving a review earlier but thanks for leaving one now :) and mundy (I loved that line too! :)**

**So I hope you enjoy that chapter and remember to leave a review because they help me write faster :) **


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

As the sunlight from the rising morning sun penetrated through the windows, Esme yawned and stretched out her limp arms wearily. As her eyes began to flutter open, she reached out her hands to rub them gently before opening them fully. She looked around quickly and took in her surroundings, then she gave a short glance at her watch before smiling to herself. She was at Baker Street and it was only five past nine. She should be able to catch Sherlock before he went out to Bart's or wherever else he usually goes. Standing up, she walked slowly like a ghost upstairs, the daze of her sleep still hanging over her and quietly pushed Sherlock's door open.

She looked towards his dark wood bed littered with books, papers, test tubes and other random pieces of scientific equipment that Esme couldn't name, however there was no head of soft black curly hair peeking out between the cover. No thin pale feet hanging lazily out of the side of his bed. Her consulting detective was nowhere to be seen. She hadn't seen him on the couch either, he didn't often fall asleep downstairs but if he did, he would next to Esme. Now wide awake and slightly concerned Esme left from Sherlock's room and went straight to John's, knocking on his door lightly. "It's Esme, can I come in?" A yawn ensued, then followed by John's drowsy voice. "One second." Esme waited patiently, as she heard John get changed quickly inside before opening his door. "Hello. What can I do for you?" John asked kindly, obviously not best pleased at being woken up earlier than planned but still kindly. "Do you know where Sherlock has wondered off to? It's just that he usually waits for you go with him as well." Esme was going to add that Sherlock usually says goodbye before leaving but decided against it.

"Sorry, I haven't got the foggiest." John replied honestly. Sherlock was always doing as he pleased without so much as a care about how much his friends worried about him. "What did you just say?" Esme asked. She had been in London for years now, but she had never heard that saying before. John eventually realized and commented "It means I haven't got a clue." Esme nodded and took note, then she thought back. Sherlock hadn't told her that he was going anywhere extremely important, but then again Sherlock didn't need to tell her everything and he most certainly did not. But he was acting weirdly yesterday. Esme searched in the pockets of her cardigan for the Sherlock's old BlackBerry had given her for safety, when he got his new iPhone. Before meeting the consulting detective, Esme had never felt the need for a good mobile phone as her five pound one was more than good enough. She scrolled through her limited number of contacts until she found his number and called him. She held the phone tightly to her ear and waited.

"_Your call has been forwarded to the voicemail service for 0793-"_ Esme dropped the call. Sherlock never listened to his voice mails. "It didn't even ring, so he's probably turned it off." Esme was now becoming visibly stressed. She knew what Sherlock was like, he never realized how his behavior affected his friends. She also knew that she was probably over-reacting and that Sherlock would probably sauntering into the flat a couple hours later, boasting about a new discovery he's made. But his odd behavior yesterday coupled with his mysterious disappearance unsettled her. John sensed this and said "Let's try and keep calm, alright?" John kept his voice level "How about I make you some tea?" In England, tea is the answer to all problems. "I DON'T WANT ANY BLOODY TEA!" Esme screamed, unleashing her rage at her boyfriend's flat mate. "I'm sorry John, I just-" She stopped, acknowledging that she didn't know how to justify her own behavior. Instead she trailed back downstairs and as she had apologized, John took this as an OK to follow her.

Esme settled herself snugly into the armchair, wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. "He'll be fine you know," John offered his words of support once more from the depth of the kitchen "He can look after himself." John reasoned with her with good cause. "Yes but he is also Sherlock Holmes. Which means he is a complete fool. That man is a danger to himself sometimes, which is why I prefer it when you are with him." John's head perked up to peer around out of the kitchen at her. Esme sighed then smiled gently. "You keep him firm grounded in reality and I am so grateful to you for that John Watson." It was true though. Sherlock needed John not only as a flat mate but as a friend, a confidante and as a colleague. In all honesty, Sherlock required John more than he needed Esme but as long as he was safe, she only didn't mind. John thanked her with a quick nod "How about some coffee?" He held out a steaming mug to her. "Thanks." She muttered before taking a warm mouthful of her drink. John settled into the other chair, seeing as today was his day off at the clinic, with his cup of unsugared tea and took a small sip. "So John, when did you last see Sherlock?" Esme decided it would be best to stick to that subject. "Umm, last night around half nine. He was going to the dry cleaners and gave him my coat to take as well." John replied as he picked up the remote and changed the channel from the children's shows to the news.

"Shit." Esme bolted up, discarding her drink on the coffee table, then dashing back upstairs. Inside, John cursed at speed of her, as he too left his tea and trailed upstairs, where he found Esme standing in front of Sherlock's bare wardrobe. "I guess all of his clothes dirty then." Esme said quietly. "You've been living with him for almost two years yet you've never realized that Mrs. Hudson does all his laundry for him." John could feel that this was most definitely a calm before the storm moment. Esme reached on her tip-toes and ran a hand along the top of his wardrobe. "His passport is gone too." She said in barely whisper, her voice hoarse. "You mean-" John started but Esme cut him off. "I think he's left the country." Esme desperately wanted to get angry at Sherlock. She wanted to scream at him or someone and tell them how stupid and naive and inconsiderate that man was. But that was in no way going to benefit either of them, so she did what the consulting detective himself would have done. She shut her emotions down and kept a cool exterior. Esme went back downstairs and opened the front door. "Just as I thought." She held up John's coat that had been hung on the bannister next to the stairs. "What do we do now then? We have no idea which country he might have gone to." John asked, finally understand the severity of this situation.

"I think it's time I paid a visit to Scotland Yard."

...

"And why exactly do we need to visit Scotland Yard?" John queried he stepped of the cab while Esme handed over some notes to the driver. "We need to ask the force whether they have seen Sherlock and if Lestrade actually had a case abroad that he sent Sherlock on." Esme answered as she pushed open the double doors. She walked up to the front desk, where a young tan woman was sitting staring vacantly at a computer, and plastered a warm smile on her face.

"Hi, I'm here to see D.I Lestrade." She asked politely. "And you are? Oh wait, let me guess." The lady contorted her mouth into a malicious smirk "Freak's girlfriend and the Freak's assistant?" Esme's smile slid off her face. "In the flesh. And you must be Sergeant Sally Donovan, I guess I recognized you from the times when Sherlock has spoken about you." Esme shrugged her shoulders casually. "Oh really? How?" Donovan's face was becoming increasingly suspicious. "It's because you're the only person around here that looks cheap enough to get together with him." Esme pointed a lazy finger in Anderson's direction, much to both of their's shock. She spotted Lestrade's office towards the end of the corridor but before she left, she bent down to to Donovan's level as she sat down and whispered in her ear "One nil to me."

...

"D.I Lestrade." Esme said politely as she opened the door to his office. Lestrade glanced up, to looked at the women in front of him up and down before asking "And to whom do I own the pleasure?" Lestrade asked carefully. "Esme Valentina," Esme sighed at the fact that she was now know mainly as "Sherlock's girlfriend." Lestrade grinned widely, mainly happy at the fact that Sherlock had found someone, finally. "Please take a seat," He gestured towards one of the two empty chairs "Ah, hello John." He greeted the army doctor as he appeared behind Esme and sat in the chair next to hers.

"So you haven't seen him either?" Esme repeated, to clarify. "Sorry, not since about last week. Why, where is he?" Lestrade set down his pen, to look at the tall red headed woman. "I don't know. He's taken all his clothes and his passport, so we think he's out of the country." Esme reasoned. "Any idea which country he might be in? Why he might leave in the first place?" Lestrade questioned them. "Nope. He just up and disappeared yesterday. At first we thought it had something to do with Moriarty but Sherlock hasn't heard from him since the pool incident." Esme shook her head as she remembered the shaken Sherlock and John that had come back to 221B afterwards. "Well, at the moment all we can do is wait. After 48 hours we can report him missing and look to see where his passport was check in at." Esme laughed quietly "Knowing Sherlock, if he doesn't want to be found, he wouldn't be." Esme stood and then John did the same. "Thank you for your time D.I Lestrade." Esme said softly before turning towards the door. "It was a pleasure Esme and please call me Greg." He smiled as Esme said "Thank you Greg."

"Till the next time, Donovan." Esme shone a fake smile in her direction, as she and John left Scotland Yard. "Well, that was a waste of time." John concluded as they waited by the side of the road for a cab to hail. "Maybe but at least we're trying to find out where he is, unlike Mycroft who is sitting content in the knowledge that his brother could be anywhere in the world."

"I am most definitely not content but I do know where he is however." A voice from behind them, which Esme immediately recognized as Mycroft's, said. "Really? Care to share?"

"He's in Switzerland."

**SERIES 2! They are showing the Hound of the Baskervilles in 20 minutes and I am super excited! Thanks to Bookwormiie, watergoddesskasey and unknown for reviewing and thanks to everyone who faved and alerted my story!**

**Much Love from BV x**


	13. Chapter 13

***NO REAL SPOILERS FOR A SCANDAL IN BELGRAVIA FOR ANY FOREIGN READERS.***

**Chapter 13 **

"Oh really?" Esme said sarcastically as she started to feel her blood begin to boil "And why exactly would he be in Switzerland? Seeing the sights perhaps?" She mocked as she rolled her eyes at Sherlock's a-typical stupidity. "Irene Adler." Mycroft replied simply while John's eyes grew wide in shock. He never thought he'd be hearing that name again. "Who?" Esme spun around on her heels to face both Mycroft and John, who faltered under her gaze. "John. Who is this woman?" Esme asked slowly, punctuating every syllable. "Perhaps he could explain once we reach Baker Street?" Mycroft suggested, much to John's relief, as he motioned towards the sleek black car that glided to a halt in front of them. Reluctantly, Esme agreed and slid into the backseat, followed John and Mycroft. The journey was lengthy and silent, mainly due to the fact that Mycroft had refused to uttered a word in case the driver was listening or the car was bugged etc.

"Irene?" John whispered hastily under his breath. Mycroft shrugged and then produced a key from his top pocket, John couldn't say that he was surprised that he had one, and opened the door to 221B Baker Street. "I heard you two." Esme stated as the trio climbed up the seventeen steps to the living room. Mycroft wrinkled his nose at the messy but cosy room and proceeded to push away the papers in front of him with a flick of his foot. He laid his umbrella by his side, as he settled into Sherlock's armchair, Esme and John sitting on the couch opposite. "Mycroft or John. Would either of you like to explain to me who Irene Adler is?" She asked as a question, but it wasn't a question. It was a demand. "It would probably be best if John told you, seeing as he was there more than I was." Esme turned to him with an expectant face. "Me and Sherlock were working on a case for the royal family. One of it's members had allowed some compromising photographs to get into the hands of a certain dominatrix. Miss Adler." Esme could feel her temperature begin to rise again. "That doesn't explain why Sherlock is in Switzerland." John sighed. "I'm sorry Esme. But I can't tell you anymore." Esme stood up sharply. "Why?" She stared at John harshly, causing him to avert his gaze. "I signed an official secrets act saying that I will not disclose the contents of that case apart from to those who were directly involved. I also...promised Sherlock that I wouldn't tell you about her." John kept his eyes firmly fixated on the ground. "What did he do with that woman?" Esme pronounced each syllable clearly. "Perhaps, I could help the situation?" Mycroft straightened his neck upwards "While I cannot tell you the details of the case, I can you that I have evidence that suggests that Sherlock is currently in Switzerland with Miss Adler." He coughed sharply "I should leave you interpret that as you wish." Mycroft said simply.

"Interpret that as I wish?" She repeated his words mockingly. "My boyfriend is in Switzerland with a prostitute, I don't think there are many conclusions to come to." Mycroft shrugged, refusing to disclose anymore information. Esme looked back and forth between the two men before turning away. She grabbed her coat off the back of the couch and heading towards the front door. "Well if neither of you are going to tell me what's really going on,. then I'm just going to have to find out myself." She shrugged, looking for a reaction. "How?" John asked, with a worried expression on his face. "I'm going to Switzerland." Esme disclosed, before running out of the flat to hail a cab. "Bloody hell... Esme wait!" John shouted out, also picking up his jacket. "You can see yourself out, Mycroft!" He called out behind him, slamming the door shut.

"Everything is falling into place."

...

"Don't you think you're being just a tad rash?" John said carefully, trying not to cause any conflict. "No." She replied, saying no more. "You do realize that I can't let you go to Switzerland by yourself. Sherlock would skin me alive." John ran a hasty hand through his dusty blonde hair. "Fine then. You can come with me." She continued staring blank-faced out of the window. "Esme, I have a job! What about the surgery and the flat too! I can't afford the rent unless Sherlock pays his half." John said astonished, Jennifer would kill him if he ran off to Switzerland with some woman in search of his AWOL flatmate. "Call them now. You have some temporary disease that's hard to diagnose and has left you house-bound." John gave her a look. She turned around to face him. "Come on! You're a doctor, think of something." John sighed, about to take out his phone, when he remembered the other problem. "And the flat?" He saw no way of getting around that one. "I own my house. I'll arrange for your stuff to be moved to my house and then Mrs. Hudson can rent out the flat for a bit. Problem solved." John shrugged. "That's means I need to go back now and get some clothes. How long do you think we're going to be there for?" He honestly had no idea and apparently neither did Esme. "I'm not sure. 2 days, 2 months, 2 years? I just need to...to find Sherlock. This isn't some get away holiday from London." Esme turned back to her window.

"Just bring enough clothes for a while, ok? Anything else that you need and I'll buy it for you there." John furrowed his eyebrows. "How much money do you have to spare?" He wondered, mostly to himself but John guessed it was old family money, like Sherlock and Mycroft's. "A lot more than any young woman should be trusted with." She muttered quietly, with a dark undertone. "I'll stop here." She said, climbing out of the cab which had stopped near her house. "You can take the cab back to Baker Street to get your stuff but I need you to meet me at Heathrow in an hour, prompt." And with that, she turned away and started to make her way down the road to her abode.

**MEANWHILE, SHERLOCK WAS IN ****ITALY**

"Ms Gables, I do believe that you have something to tell me." Sherlock asked politely, with a slight scathing tone under his breath. "What would that be?" She asked quickly, avoiding the steady gaze from Sherlock's grey eyes. "That fact that your son is alive and well and currently in hiding from absolutely nobody." Sherlock continued to stare straight ahead at her.

"I don't think I understand." Ms Gables replied, running a lofty hand through her soft blonde hair. "Oh, I think that you do." Sherlock gave out a dark chuckle "You told your own son that he was being hunted down by the Mafia. He believed you because of the dodgy drugs that he's been sell to God knows who but the Mafia doesn't care about him." Sherlock waved his hand, as if batting away the idea.

"He's just a small fish in a very deep ocean. So why would you fabricate an elaborate tale to me and send me on a wild goose chase around Italy for a month?" He cocked his head to the side and stared into her eyes. "Why?" He repeated again. "Protection? No. Family? No. Money? Hmm, maybe. Blackmail? Oh yes, definitely blackmail." She tore herself away from him. "Get out of my house. Samantha, come and show Mr. Holmes out please!" She called out for her servant loudly, doing anything to get away from Sherlock."

"I know the way out."

**Ooooh, so what do you guys think of that? I'm trying not to give anything away in my little Author's notes :P As per usual, thank you so much for reading this chapter, next one is written and just needs to be typed up ;)**

**Special thanks goes to:**

**Bookworm4000**

**Gwilwillith**

**Star-light1990**

**Sashaxh**

**Bookwormiie**

**watergoddesskasey**

**for reviewing ;) You guys rock my socks LOL It helps a lot as it tells me if the FF is going in the right direction, if people are reading and enjoying it and your general comments :')**

**Bon nuit,**

**BV x**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Mrs Hudson, I'm home!" Sherlock's voice rang out through the hall way "Put the kettle on, would you?" Sherlock shrugged off his usual heavy winter coat and hung it on the coat rack that was now riddled with an assortment of jackets of a range of sizes. He leapt up the stairs in long strides, finally reaching the top and slamming the door open. Sherlock coughed and then drew himself up to his full height.

His normally beautiful flat had been stripped of all the things he held dear to his heart and replaced with a stranger's possessions. There were enough toys littered on the floors, chairs and pretty much most of the stable surfaces in the flat to fill Hamley's easily enough. Mrs Hudson appeared behind Sherlock, evidently anxious from the fact that she was playing with her shirt sleeve. "Oh, Sherlock dear. I didn't know you were coming back. I-" He cut her off abruptly. "Obviously not, otherwise you would have put my flat back to normal." A small brown-haired man who had previously been watching TV on the sofa, had now stood up but was still significantly shorter than Sherlock. "Excuse me," He started politely "But is there a problem?" He looked straight at Sherlock. "Oh do shut up and go back to watching your mediocre talent show," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Seeing as your intellect is so dangerously low, why don't you let the adults finish then maybe if Mrs Hudson is bothered, she can break it down into bite-size pieces for you alright?" Sherlock turned back to his landlady, ready to continue when the man said "Would you mind not-" Sherlock didn't let him ramble on. "Yes, I would mind." He returned to Mrs Hudson again. "Where have you put all of my things?" Sherlock asked slowly "No wait. Silly question. It's in 221a. But where is John and his stuff?" Sherlock muttered mostly to himself. "John moved out about 3 weeks ago. But he said he would be back but he doesn't know when, in fact he suggested that I rent the place out himself." Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "And Esme? Do have any clue where she is?" Sherlock was starting to become slightly confused. "No idea, love. I haven't seen her since around the time when John left." Sherlock arched his right eyebrow in thought."

"Well, I'm going out for a bit." Sherlock turned to look at the man. "I do hope you've sorted out where these people are going to be sleeping tonight. It's still dreadfully cold on the streets." Then Sherlock exited with a overly dramatic swish of his coat.

...

Sherlock lifted up the plant pot where Esme kept a spare key for emergency purposes. "_Well, this is sort of an emergency."_ Sherlock thought to himself. He used it to discreetly open her front door, knowing that picking it would have been too obvious. Sherlock's eyes scanned Esme's front room critically, noting down the subtle differences in it's appearance from the last time he had visited months ago. Men's jumpers were now hung casually over the sides of her sofa, masculine shoes many sizes too large for Esme now sat proudly next to her's, an extra empty mug of unsweetened tea sat abandoned on the coffee table, there were more dirty plates in the sink than one woman only could use and the list just went on and on. But there was one thing that was bothering Sherlock profusely. None of these items belonged to him, but to his best friend John Watson. He didn't need to go upstairs to see what he could find, because he knew it.

And it chilled him to the core.

"How long do you think we're gonna be there for?" John's voice rang out from absolutely nowhere. Sherlock quickly spun around, eyes darting around the room before he realized that they was nobody there. This was a recording and apparently from the fuzziness of the sound, one taken in secret. However, the voices were still audible enough to be easily heard. "I don't know? 2 years?" Esme's calm voice sang out as clear as day. "I just need to..." She hesitated. "Get away from Sherlock." Sherlock held his breath as he listened to his girlfriend's words. "I know." John said, and then the recording beeped indicating the end. Another beep sounded as the recording started again from the beginning. "Shut up." Sherlock said quietly. The voices continued in the background, mocking him cruelly. "I said, SHUT UP!" Sherlock looked frantic, running his hands through his already messy hair. "STOP IT. TURN IT OFF NOW!" He bellowed, his words echoing ghostly throughout the rooms. The sounds stopped abruptly and the house fell deathly silent. "I don't believe this fairy-tale Moriarty." Sherlock muttered softly, shaking his head from side to side doubt. "Really?" Sherlock sounded like he was on the verge on manic laughter. "The girl runs away with her boyfriend's best friend? You could have at least been original." He continued talking, at no-one in particular. "I do hope you haven't harmed her because all actions will have repercussions." He raised his eyebrows quickly "Wherever _they_ are and wherever _you_ are," His voice lowered into a eerie whisper "I'm coming there." Sherlock cocked his head to the side.

"Then I will make you regret the day you started playing games with my friends."

...

Sherlock took deep breaths as he sat in the rear of the cab, on his way back to Baker Street. He pondered quietly over the surge of information that he had received in the last hour. Esme and John? Never. He had only been gone for a month! He hadn't noticed anything between them before but now that he thought about it, John had always been friendly towards her. Too friendly perhaps? But Esme wasn't the type to cheat. Was she? He himself had only been dating her six months. Sherlock coughed and then recollected his thoughts.

"_I mustn't allow myself to doubt. Esme and John are in trouble and I mustn't allow Moriarty's stories to cloud my judgement."_

_"They would not betray me."_

_"They know better than that."_

Sherlock took out his phone and logged into his website. He scrolled through to the forum and click_ post. _

**I'm getting lonely. Stop playing games with others and come and play with me. Tonight. At the warehouse in Addington, you know the one.**

** Don't be late - SH.**

**...**

**Again Thanks to EVERYBODY WHO REVIEWED:**

Hannah Friends  
>Thank you Hannah ;) Your review was very kind and I'm sure the people at the BBC are reading it too LOOOL Hope you enjoyed Chapter 14 :)<p>

Trulzxoxo  
>I know what you mean, sometimes I feel like I'm putting Esme through too much but... ah well. This is Sherlock, we're talking about here! He going to put any girlfriend of his through a lot of hardship :P<p>

Bookworm4000  
>I know! Irene is amazing but I'm trying not to spoil anything for any american readers (I know you're out there :) or other foreign readers... but the Reichenbach falls was E.P.I.C !<p>

Gwilwillith  
>*Taps side of nose* Mycroft is a sneaky little bugger, isn't he?<p>

sashaxh  
>Awww, don't get too mad at Sherly, He doesn't do it intentionally! In fact, I think he's mainly trying to protect Esme but his plan has backfired... horribly. Don't worry, Esme will get her own back soon enough :)<p>

Vilentiel

I'm updating as fast as I humanly can! :)

**Can I just make a quick request that all of my British readers or anyone who has watched Series 2, NOT to post any spoilers in their reviews? It's not very fair on everyone else ;)**

** Thanks for readers and remember reviews are even better than milk and cookies ;)**


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The sound of the heels on Sherlock's shoes tapped and echoed eerily around walls of the warehouse, fading out when Sherlock stopped abruptly. He was not alone. "Hello James." Sherlock spoke first, breaking the deadly silence. "I didn't realise you were on a first name basis with me now." Moriarty cooed from the darkness that enveloped both of them.

"I was just returning the favour and being gentle in my approach to overseeing the return of them." Sherlock reasoned.

"That's why you have the Browning in your suit pocket again is it?" Moriarty smiled to himself. "Precisely. I didn't realise you could see in the dark." Sherlock pondered. "Am I really that scary?" Moriarty mocked him in a crude impression of a child's voice.

"Is the dark bothering you?" He asked, though mostly sounding like he was asking himself. "I don't prefer it." Sherlock admitted. The sound of the switch being flicked rang out and the florescent lights above spluttered into life. "Feeling considerate?" Sherlock asked.

"I have my days." Moriarty said. Now that Sherlock could see, he saw that Moriarty was standing at the top of a spiral staircase, in the corner of the large vacant room.

"But enough of this chit-chat," Moriarty's voice into it's usual drone. "I know why you are here and what you want but I want to here you say it." Moriarty smiled deviously. Sherlock stretched his neck to the side "I would like Esme and John to be released." Moriarty laughed.

"The great Sherlock Holmes wants his friends back!" Moriarty clapped "I have to tell you, I _was_ surprised when you got yourself a little girlfriend." He rolled his eyes. "How _normal. _I'm going to have to figure out a new nickname for you now."

"Esmeralda Valentina." He let the name roll slowly off his tongue. "Better known as Esme. Isn't that just _adorable?_" Moriarty mocked him. "I didn't come here for you to state the obvious." Sherlock replied. "I know but you know I like to play with my food before I eat it." Moriarty said. "Tell me. Did you think that I would believe the little story you conjured up?" Sherlock asked.

"No." He said simply. "I'm getting impatient, James." Sherlock retorted. "Oh, get over yourself." Moriarty rolled his eyes indifferently. Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out John's gun. "Where are they?" Sherlock bellowed, pronouncing each word harshly. "Calm down, love." Moriarty mocked.

"No, Moriarty! I am growing tired of this game!" Sherlock barked viciously, pointing the gun directly at Moriarty's heart. "Tell me where they are!" Moriarty smiled. "You wouldn't dare shot me." He shook his head slowly. "No, no no. You're much too soft. Too weak. You just don't have the heart for it." Sherlock cocked his head to the side.

A shot rang out.

"Told you so." Moriarty briefly looked up to see the small hole in ceiling, when another shot rang out.

"Do not underestimate me." Moriarty stumbled slightly, as he supported his weight against the wall pressing his hand against the bleeding wound on his arm, from a bullet that had grazed past it. "Temper, temper Sherlock." Moriarty taunted him. "You can't seriously expect me to just _tell_ you where they are." Moriarty shook his head solemnly. "What would be the fun of that?"

Sherlock nodded. "You're right. I'm not expecting you to tell. I'm going to force you to." Sherlock cocked the gun once again. "Force me? Honey, you must be out of your mind." He narrowed his eyes. "In fact, I think you are out of your mind. Look at you." Moriarty stretched his neck.

"This isn't the Sherlock Holmes that I first met," Moriarty exhaled. "He wouldn't ask for the answer. He would find it." Moriarty laughed. "They've ruined you." He sneered. "Reduced you to begging." He almost spat the last word. "It's pathetic."

A third shot sounded and Moriarty fell.

"Gosh, _someone's_ trigger happy today."

"I don't have time for this! You've left me no clues." Sherlock sighed. "What's the point in playing a losing game?"

"For the fun of it?"

Sherlock walked up to where Moriarty was sat carefully on the ground, still gripping the wound on his arm, not even attempting to stem the flow of blood coming from the deep gash on his leg that stained his designer suit. Sherlock held the gun against his head and cocked it one last time.

"I'm going to count to 5."

"Good for you."

"1."

"Really, Sherlock?"

"2."

"Ooh, I think he's serious."

"3."

"Boring."

"4."

"Almost there now."

"5."

"Go on then."

A bullet flew through the air.

"Well, _that's_ going to leave a mark." Moriarty winced as he observed his hand, looking straight through the hole that had been made been the impeding shot. "You're insane." Sherlock muttered. "You're only getting that now?" Moriarty jeered. Sherlock stepped on his injured hand, causing him to shriek out in pain. "Tell me!" Sherlock shouted.

"It's hilarious," Moriarty said through pain gasps of breath. "I didn't even have them, in the first place," He wheezed forcefully. "And you didn't even realize." His breaths grew shorter and shorter as Moriarty's eyelids fell gently.

Sherlock reached into James' suit pocket and took out his BlackBerry. He dialed 999 and brought the phone up to his ear, taking a deep sigh, as he waited for them to pick up.

"999 emergency, which services do you require?" A kind sounding lady asked.

"Aye, I'm in need of an ambulance." Sherlock said in a thick Scottish accent.

"Where are you, love?"

Sherlock gave her the address easily. He _had_ picked this location for a reason. It was quickly accessible with multiple escape routes.

"And who are you?"

"Brendan McCulley ma'am." Sherlock lied easily.

"Is it you that needs the ambulance?"

"No. It's someone that I found when I was on my way to the shops." Sherlock had seen a town center on the journey to the warehouse, so this lie didn't seem at all far-fetched.

"What's happened to them darling?"

"I heard quite a few gunshots. I-I think he's been shot." Sherlock deliberately stuttered over his words.

"It's already, someone's on their way. Stay with him, ok?"

"You'd better hurry though. He's bleeding out fast."

**Ta da! So what did you guys make of that? Please leave a review, everything you guys say helps just that little bit more :P**

**CompleteSolitude**

Thank you so much! I'm really glad to know that people are actually interested in my FF :) Expect the unexpected because I always need to keep any readers on their toes :P You're motivating me to write up the next chapters just that bit faster!

**Crimson TigerLily**

Tell you all about our little friend Mycroft would be much too easy :P

**Trulzxoxo**

Thank you! It's always nice when to see such a kind review ;)

**Gwilwillith**

Oh course Esme and John wouldn't cheat! Would they?

**sashaxh**

Neither can I! I'm having so much fun writing this! I've already planned pretty much the whole story but I just need to write it all up :)

**Kinti**

Esme is something else isn't she? Thank you for telling me about the guitar thing! I love constructive criticism because it helps with my writing skills. As Sherlock once said I should "Do my research!"

I loved that line too :P John is just amazing like...all the time :)


	16. Chapter 16

_I am a horribly selfish and lazy writer, I know (dodges the rotten tomatoes). I have kept on putting off updating this story for at least a month (maybe almost even two) now. However this hiatus has made me realize that I seriously need to speed up the pace of the plot. So from this point on if you feel that this are going really fast, that's because it is. It's just because I have planned very far ahead to a point that I REALLY want to write about, so I'm hurrying along the process :) Rant over now so enjoy this chapter! _

**Chapter 16**

"None of this makes any sense." Sherlock said to Yorick, who was know sitting proudly on the coffee table. "I've got all the evidence and the only conclusion I can come to is Moriarty." Sherlock sighed. "And it wasn't Moriarty. I saw it in his eyes." He shook his head. "He wasn't lying." Sherlock stared at Yorick. "Once you've removed the impossible, whatever remains however improbable must be truth...no matter how infuriating." Sherlock added on, a new part to his catchphrase. It seemed appropriate. "Esme and John have left on their own freewill, together to Switzerland with no intention of returning." Sherlock sighed. "At first, I would have said that the obvious assumption would be that they eloped. However now that seems to be the only logical conclusion."

The door swung open to reveal Mrs Hudson, as she bustled in carrying a tray with tea, biscuits and all.

"Now dear, you know I'm not your housekeeper but I think that this an exceptional circumstance. How are you holding up, sweetie?" Mrs Hudson asked gently, in her usually calming tone. Sherlock's body slightly tensed and his eyes hardened as they swept upwards to make contact with Mrs. Hudson's. He stared at her for a few seconds before he spoke.

"Excellently. You?"

"Now, Sherlock dear...there's no need to hide your feelings." She shook her head softly. "I understand." Sherlock laughed a menacing evil chuckle. "You don't understand anything." Mrs. Hudson ignored him and took a seat opposite him, carefully placing her tray on the coffee table. She positioned the cushions at her side, then retrieved one of the cups of tea, taking a slow sip of the hot liquid. For a moment, they just sat there in complete silence both in deep thought, perhaps Sherlock more than Mrs. Hudson. "Did you know?" Sherlock asked quietly. Figuring out the emotions of the world and perfectly ordinary strangers was child's play to him but the thoughts and feelings of those closest to him was always a lot trickier. "About what John and Esme would do?" Sherlock didn't bother with a sarcastic comment this time. "Of course I didn't! Who could have?" Mrs Hudson asked. "I could have." Sherlock muttered, then shook his head as he edited his words. "I should have." If this had been a case he was working on, he would have figured this out a month ago. But instead, he had allowed himself to become emotionally interwoven, his observing eyes clouded by sentiment. It was still true, what he had told Miss Irene Adler all those months ago.

"Everybody has bad days, love." Mrs Hudson reasoned diplomatically.

"Not me."

Sherlock took a long deep breath. He needed to know the facts, the plain facts. This was now a case in his eyes and for now, Mrs. Hudson could as his Replacement John.

"Sherlock leaves the UK for a month without telling anyone where he's going or when he's coming back. Sooner or later, Esme figures out that Sherlock left the country. So Esme is... upset and annoyed?" Sherlock glanced towards Mrs. Hudson looking for her opinion. Slightly taken back that Sherlock required her input she replies. "More like angry, more than upset. I saw her face when she came downstairs after she found out. It was more rage than sadness." Sherlock nodded, then continued.

"So, she's angry. Perhaps feeling a bit spiteful? And what's the best way to get back at your AWOL partner?" Sherlock tilted his head to the side. "It's a bit of a jump dear, from being annoyed to cheating." Mrs. Hudson informed him. "Yes, but once you have removed the impossible whatever remains however improbable _must be truth_." He repeated as he bounced in his chair. "Damn!" He cursed lowly, as his nostrils flared out. Sherlock raised his hands to his head, massaging his temple as if it would give him all of the necessary answers. "How could I have been so blinded?" Sherlock shouted as he ran his hand through his hair before he tightened them into fists.

"Calm down, love." The echoes of Moriarty rang through his head, as he looked on at his reflection in the mirror. He could almost see _his _face. Moriarty was right. This wasn't the usual Sherlock Holmes. "NO!" He lashed out, throwing his fist into the glass and watching as it rained down into his plush carpet.

The anger was gone now.

Sherlock took a deep breath before turning to his guest. "Thank you for your company Mrs Hudson, it was much appreciated." Sherlock tried to put some subtle emphasis of the word "was". "But Sherlock, you're injured!" Mrs. Hudson look aghast. "I've realized that already." Sherlock rolled his eyes, still trying to gently beckon her out. "Sher-"

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock roared. "Could you leave? Please?" Still not quite satisfied, Mrs Hudson left from 221B with a quick nod, down to 221A.

Now he knew he needed to do. Sherlock strode into the kitchen and retrieved one of the bandages that had been placed in easy to reach places from obvious reasons. He ran his hand under cold water, allowing the cool temperature to sooth the searing pain in his hand. Sherlock then lifted the limb to eye level. He was lucky, Sherlock reasoned while removed the lone piece of glass in his wound. Tentatively, he wrapped and secured the bandage tightly on his hand before springing up.

Taking out his phone with his uninjured hand, Sherlock sent a hurried and urgent text to Mycroft.

_I need to get to Switzerland, now. No time for me to book a flight._

**-SH **

The reply was almost instant.

_Done. _

_Flight 178 _

_5.00PM_

_Terminal 4 because I know how you despise Terminal 5._

_The e-ticket will be emailed to you shortly._

**-MH**_  
><em>

There was no time for sitting around now. Sherlock had a plane to catch.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Esme and John's time in Switzerland was turning out to have been a complete waste of time. There was still not even the faintest trace of Sherlock anywhere, and they had been on this endless wild goose chase for days now.

Not even Mycroft was able to further assist them on finding Sherlock, which had greatly surprised John. The man that always had his brother under watchful eyes only knew what country he was in? However, Esme remained ever adamant that they would find Sherlock, no matter how long it took them.

"Esme, listen." John turned to her, as she started to gather their possessions once again. She had found a new province in Switzerland where a triple murder had taken place. Sherlock was bound to go, a new case to relieve him from his eternal boredom, she was sure. "I understand why you're doing this," John waved his hands about, as if to indicate their whole situation. "You care about Sherlock-" Esme cut him off, sweeping her messy curly locks out of her face to look directly at John. "I don't just care for him." John realized that this was true. Dedication like this wasn't care. It was love and it was friendship.

"Yes, but he's a grown man. If this is what he's decided to do then isn't it his choice?" The doctor tried to reason diplomatically. "No." Esme answered resoundingly. John sighed, resulting a slight growl from the woman opposite him. "John. Look me in the eyes and tell me that if it was Sherlock in my shoes, that he would have given up." John stilled. They both knew the answer, however Esme stood there waiting for it.

Knowing that John wasn't going to reply, she spoke instead. "Then help me pack up our stuff. If we leave within the hour, we should be able to catch a train to Altdorf, otherwise I have to drive."

Esme's phone bleeped.

_1 new message from Sherlock._

Somewhere after reading the screen Esme must have stopped breathing, as she now found herself taking quick and shallow breaths. "John, you might want to take a look at this." She carelessly threw her phone in John's direction which he caught effortlessly. John then, more carefully, passed it back to her. "Read it then." She unlock her phone and the message opened.

"_I know you and John are in Switzerland and I am as well. Where are you? We need to confer_."

**-SH**

"The bloody bastard! He wants to _confer!_" She sneered the last word "After all the shit he's put me through! Running off with a prostitute... Not telling me...Being a prick... I'll show him where he can stick his stupid conference..." She muttered angrily, dialing his number and bringing the phone to her ear. _"Wait. You can't just let him know that you're upset. Then he would have won." _Esme cut off the call before Sherlock could answer it. "Esme, I thought that you _wanted_ to find Sherlock! Well, here he is. At least we don't have to keep on hunting him down." John was right but he was wrong at the same time. She did want to find Sherlock but this wasn't Esme finding him. This was him finally getting bored of whatever he was doing and beckoning Esme back now. It's obvious that this still really isn't important to him. He sent her a text! Not even a apologetic text!

"_The Reichenbach Falls." _

**-EV**

She usually signed off her texts with her first name but that just didn't seem appropriate at the time. Within moments of her pressing send, Esme jumped up and walked over to the bathroom. "John, we're meeting Sherlock at the falls!" She called out as she rooted through one of the cabinets for her make up bag. She hadn't been sleeping very well recently and she really didn't need him to know that she had been losing sleep over him. "Why at the falls?" John called back. "I don't know, it's was the first not overly busy, quite nearby and large landmark that came to mind." John rolled his eyes and sighed. Anybody else would have just chosen a cafe. "No, no no. Everybody's always eavesdropping in cafes." His eyebrows knitted together as he wondered how she could have possibly seemingly read his mind, when there weren't even in the same room.

_"She's been spending too much time around that git."_

...

He wasn't too far away from the hotel where they were staying when Sherlock received her text.

"_The Reichenbach Falls."_

**-EV**

He rolled his eyes. He had just driven past the falls, briefly glancing at them from a distance before focusing once again on the road. It would take him another 10 minutes to get back now. Nevertheless, Sherlock put the car in reverse, turned and headed back towards the falls.

...

"There he is." John pointed out the large Jeep that was coming up the incline. Esme remained facing the falls, her back towards both John and the car. Sherlock climbed out and shut the door behind him. Slowly, he eyed up John, who was looking back at him with sadness and a slight sense of disgust in his features. "_How can John just stand there like nothing's happened?"_ Sherlock thought silently.

"You have a lot of guts Sherlock, I have to admit." John shook his head slightly. "Me?" Sherlock replied incredulously, getting ready for an argument.

"Two months." Esme said quietly drawing Sherlock's attention away from John to her.

"Two months what?" He asked. She replied as she stared down into the deep pool of water, hundreds of metres below.

"How long I've spent waiting and looking for you"

Sherlock snorted "Looking for me in Switzerland of all places, that's your cover story is it? Pathetic." Sherlock almost spat the last word.

Esme whipped around to face him, with tears burning furiously in her eyes. "You, son of a bitch!" She screamed, walking towards him. Sherlock took a nervous step. "Pathetic! You can fucking talk! What do you fucking mean by cover story? What the fuck do you think I've really been doing in Switzerland? What the fuck have you been doing in Switzerland, running around with that low-life whore, Irene Adler! Yes, I bloody know about her, your brother told me! He told me that my stupid boyfriend who I thought had been kidnapped was actually living it up in Europe!" She was now nose to nose with him.

"Do you know how that makes me feel?" Esme spoke in a low but deadly voice. "Of course you don't. You're not human." Sherlock reached into his trouser pocket and brought out a small slip of paper. "Esme, I only arrived in Switzerland yesterday..." Esme took the ticket and after a swift glance dropped it down into the fall. "Really? So where were you before that?" Sherlock sighed.

"I was in Italy." Esme rolled her eyes. "Italy, Switzerland, France, Australia, Guatemala? Who cares!" Sherlock quickly corrected her. "No! I mean I was in Italy alone. Irene Adler is currently in Washington DC working under an alias as an estate agent. I was working on a case, which turned out to have been a complete hoax..." It clicked. "Oh for God's sake! He actually managed to pull this off. Must say, I'm impressed." Sherlock sighed.

"You're really slacking Sherlock. You're a _detective._" Mycroft shook his head. "What's going on? Mycroft?" Esme asked, confused. "Sherlock had been falsely drawn to Italy onto an imaginary case which I personally created for you dear brother," Mycroft gave a devious smile. "While you were told he had left to Switzerland with Ms Adler."

"Sherlock then returned to the UK some weeks later and was left with some delightful clues I devised that led to the conclusion that you and Dr. Watson had run away together to Switzerland and here you both are." Mycroft gave a slight smile.

"Why?" Was all that Sherlock asked. "Truth be told, it was because of Mummy. She doesn't approve of your choice of life partner and hoped that this little adventure would make you realise that your little girlfriend doesn't trust you and isn't to be trusted." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Life partner? Who says that anything's permanent?" Mycroft rolled his eyes casually.

"Well, considering that she's two months pregnant with your child, Mother assumed that it was going be _some what_ long term."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

There were two sharp intakes of breath. One from Esme, and the other from John. Sherlock's face paled to a deathly white. He turned to look at Esme, now able to see all the signs. The poorly concealed dark circles under her eyes from a lack of sleep probably due to stress. The way her hand hovered protectively over her stomach while fiddling with a button on her shirt. The slight erosion of the enamel on her teeth due to morning sickness. She leaned more onto her right leg now, most likely to support the extra 2 pounds she had gained. Sherlock looked away from Esme to give Mycroft a blank indifferent stare.

"Oh! You didn't know?" Mycroft shook his head in false sadness. "You see, I thought maybe Doctor Watson might have taken pity on you and revealed all."

_John knew?_

"Congratulations by the way. I sure that parenthood will suit you to a tee." Mycroft addressed Esme directly, who didn't reply. "I'm not too sure about my brother though. He's never been one for caring." Mycroft let out a mirthless chuckle as he turned on his heels back towards his car, twirling his umbrella jovially around his wrist.

Sherlock let a deep sigh before starting towards his own vehicle. Esme jerked towards him in a panic and called out his name. "Sherlock? Sherlock!" He paused mid step, not turning around to face her. "Where does this leave us?" Esme asked quietly. She had always wanted children. _Yes, more than one._ But she did realize that Sherlock didn't share the same views, however Esme didn't believe that such a situation as now would arise so soon on. Sherlock pivoted back to look at Esme.

_Would you leave me,_  
><em>If I told you what I've done?<em>  
><em>And would you need me,<em>  
><em>If I told you what I've become?<em>  
><em>'cause it's so easy,<em>  
><em>To say it to a crowd<em>  
><em>But it's so hard, my love,<em>  
><em>To say it to you out loud<em>

"I don't want a child." He stated plainly. Esme could see the anger burning in John's eyes. "Sherlock Holmes, don't you dare-" Sherlock whipped his head round to glare at John. "No." He silenced John immediately, with a lethal warning. "I do want you though, Esme." Esme raised an eyebrow in utter surprise. "Are you implying something?" Sherlock didn't reply.

_You're my head_  
><em>You're my heart<em>

_No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_  
><em>I never knew daylight could be so violent<em>  
><em>A revelation in the light of day<em>  
><em>You can't choose what stays and what fades away<em>

"I'm sorry Sherlock but this baby is mine and I want it, no matter what. I do love you however, I refuse to have you float in and out of this child's life whenever you feel like it." Esme shook her head slowly. "You choose." She could see the mental battle currently raging through his eyes as plain as day. "That baby is mine too. So I'll have both of you," Sherlock nodded slowly, almost as though he were reassuring himself. "I suppose I could adjust slightly and assist raising it into a semi-decent human." Esme tutted. "You going to have to a lot better than _adjust._ You have to be a _father._" Sherlock looked slightly nauseated as the mere mention of the word.

"If Moriarty could see me now... So domesticated." Esme tutted. "All you need now is a feather duster and pink gloves to complete the image." Sherlock's eyes widened in mock shock. "You wouldn't dare." Esme smiled. "Try me." Sherlock was silent for a small period of time before announcing. "I'm still going to work on my cases." Esme rolled her eyes.

"I would expect no less, Mister Holmes."

**A/N: Sorry for a very short chapter and for turning it into a slight songfic but I think that No Light was so relevant and suited it so well, I couldn't help it :) I didn't want to leave you guys in suspense for the next couple of weeks! **

**Sooooo, Sherlock and Esme finally! **

**Please review and tell me what you think! I regret to inform you guys that this story is reaching it's end :( However I do have plans for a SEQUEL so let me know if you want that to happen!**

**Also, I'm still not sure whether or not I want Sherlock and Esme to get MARRIED so let know what you think should happen as I value your opinions very much :)**

_cag21_

_SarahELupin_

_BreathSlowAndHeavy _

_Druid Archer _

_Gwilwillith _

_kie1993 _

**Thanks for reviewing! Cookies all round I think ;)**_  
><em>

**I'm done.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

"Do you want to get married, Esme?" Sherlock said from behind his newspaper, which he promptly folded and laid on the table. Esme slowly lowered the piece of toast that had been heading towards her mouth back onto the plate. "I-What?" Sherlock sighed.

"Married. Where two people join themselves together in holy maritrimony." Esme spluttered. "I-Well-Are you asking?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Obviously. It was a question." Esme sighed. "Well, I guess I do want to eventually, but what about you?" Sherlock coughed. "Forget about me. So that's a yes then? You will marry me?" Esme laughed.

"Umm...No." Sherlock's eyes widened. "What?" Esme giggled louder this time. "You didn't ask to marry to me, you just asked if I wanted to get married. You didn't state to whom." Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to get married to me, Esme?" Esme grabbed a towel and headed towards the bathroom.

"Not until you get down on one knee and ask me properly!"

**SOME WEEKS LATER**

"Esme!" Sherlock called out her name, as she plummeted into the darkest depths of the river, as the man who had just pushed her sprinted away into the distance. John started to pursue but Sherlock called him off. "Leave him, he's an idiot I can get him at any time." Sherlock and John waited for a moment, before realising that Esme hadn't returned to the surface.

"Why has she come up yet?" Sherlock's eyes widened. "John, She-I-Call an ambulance, We'll need it." He stripped off the scarf and coat and jacket, throwing them to the ground worthlessly. "Don't even think about it Sherlock. You don't how deep it is, whether there are rocks or anything! You could easily die." John warned him. "Well if I don't try, then they most certainly will! She's been under for 1 minute 47 seconds already, another 2 minutes and she'll start to become losing neurological functions. Also the fetus, needs a constant supply of oxygen and drowning is not at all beneficial."

Sherlock stood at the edge of the harbour. He stepped outwards, sinking smoothly into the water. Turning his face towards the bank of the river, he could vaguely see the outline of a figure still thrashing against an invisible bind. He swam towards it, the shape of Esme's body soon becoming clear. As she noticed him, she pointed down at the belt that clinched her waist but was now snagged on a rock behind. His hands dove to the belt, fumbling on the locked clasp, desperately trying to unhook it.

As he worked on the lock, he felt Esme's hand come to his face as her body went limp as she stopped struggling. Sherlock pulled hard, until the belt ripped under the stress. He wrapped both his arms around Esme and kicked furiously, fighting the overwhelming urge to pass out. Sherlock looked up. He could see the glimmer of flashing lights at the surface. He released just one arm from Esme, keeping the other firmly around her, and reached for it. Suddenly, Sherlock's head broke the surface and found himself gasping for air.

"They're up!" A vague voice shouted. At the edge of the harbour, John was standing, waiting with a large branch to bring them in. Sherlock grabbed it, and was dragged across the water to the side. He held Esme under her arms and pushed up her up, allowing John to pull her out of the water and then himself. "John, CPR." John looked back at Sherlock "I'll try." Then turned his attention to the unconscienous woman on the ground. He started with 30 compressions and then gave two rescue breaths and continued to repeat this pattern.

The paramedics rushed over to Sherlock but he simply batted them away and pointed them in the direction of Esme. "Help her..." He coughed vigourously. "She's pregnant, the baby..." The paramedic who was slightly taller than Sherlock said "Sir, you're not well-" Sherlock hushed him. "I'll get over it." Sherlock spotted Lestrade, standing by the police tape talking to Anderson. "You! Where on earth were you?" Sherlock directed at Greg. "Sherlock, you can't blame-" He silenced him.

"Yes, in fact I can. If you and police force weren't so incompetent-"

"Maybe, if you actually told me where you were going instead of being so damned illusive!"

"I shouldn't need to spoon-feed you information that you should have found out in the first place!"

"That's not the point-"

"It's exactly the point. Now Esme is lying there half dead and only God knows what state the child is in."

"Child?"

Lestrade looked straight at Sherlock, who tilted his head away.

"She's conscious!" John called out to Sherlock, who broke away from Lestrade to be at Esme's side. As Esme was placed on the stretcher, Sherlock gripped tightly on it's side to steady himself.

"Sherlock, you don't look too good." John's voice sounded concerned. "I think you're suffering the side effects of oxygen deprivation."

"Rubbish." Sherlock paused, his breathing shallow. "It's definitely not oxygen deprivation."

"_Mild anxiety, palpitations, radiating chest pain, shortness of breath, dizziness, angina." _Sherlock listed out his symptoms. "_Oh, and fainting."_

"Well, this is unfortunate." He stated wearily.

That was when Sherlock collapsed.

...

**A/N: Sorry guys, I just HAD to put their lives in jeopardy ;) You might not hear from me for a bit, I've got exams next week you see :(**

**Thanks to the following for reviewing, YOU'RE LIKE SO COOL LIKE.**

_Druid Archer _

_Crimson TigerLily_

_carisa _

_kie1993_

_Gwilwillith_

**Au revoir :)**


	20. Chapter 20

I'm back!... Again! Battered and bruised from last week but ready to continue and finish off this story! Either way, without any further ado, the chapter!

**Chapter 20**

Anti-septic sterilising alcohol gel.

Intravenous drip in left arm.

A nurse leaving the room.

Bed like cardboard.

Heavily starched mass-produced blanket.

Sherlock's eyes shot open. "I'm in hospital." The sound of clapping reverberated from the most far away corner of the room.

"Brilliant deductions as ever, Sherlock." The voice drawled lazily. "In fact, almost as good as ability to almost murder yourself." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Mycroft Holmes at my bedside. What a surprise." Mycroft coughed. "Strictly speaking, I'm by the door." Sherlock sighed. "Don't these doctors know better than to give an me a drip? I could spike that saline solution with any drug I wanted in the blink of an eye." Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "Trust me, I've been having you very closely monitored." Mycroft muttered darkly.

"I already know what happened but I'd like you to tell me anyway." Sherlock requested. "What happened is that you almost died for a damsel in distress." Sherlock coughed. "What happened medically, Mycroft."

"You suffered a cardiac arrest and you were clincally dead for about three minutes. I was on the verge of calling Mummy when you came back from the dead." Mycroft sighed.

"You are ever so theatrical, even in death." Sherlock stared at Mycroft. "And Esme?" Mycroft gazed up at Sherlock. "She's-" Sherlock cut him off. "The truth Mycroft." Mycroft's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Barely alive and extremely frail. She's currently residing in ICU. Her heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital. However she is expected to make a modest recovery." Sherlock groaned.

"And the fetus?" Mycroft coughed. "The doctors were focusing on Esme." Sherlock's eyes widened. "Is it d-" Mycroft shook his head. "It's not exactly clear cut. The initial scans have come back clear on physical damage but they will only know about any neurological damage when it's born."

* * *

><p>"Sherlock, what on earth are you attempting?" Mycroft entered the room as soon as Sherlock removed the electrodes on his chest that were monitoring him. John quickly appeared behind Mycroft. "I'm going to see her." He took the crutches that were leaning against the wall and grabbed his silk blue dressing gown.<p>

"John, throw me my jacket." He obliged, tossing the blazer over to Sherlock, who slipped something from his inside pocket into his dressing gown. Mycroft tilted his head in curiousity, Sherlock's action not going missed. He countered with a steely glare.

Resting on the side of the bed, Sherlock enclosed himself in his robe, covering up the sickly green hospital garb he had been committed to wear. "Sherlock, you've only regained consciousness less than an hour ago. You know that the doctors wouldn't be best pleased." Sherlock laughed quietly. "Like that's going really put me off."

Sherlock placed his weight and staggered forward with great difficulty. "If you make it out of this room in the next half hour I will be astounded." Mycroft drawled.

"Sherlock, you're going to hurt yourself." John warned, however Sherlock said nothing and continued on with his baby steps. John sighed and left the room, as Sherlock looked up to see him go. Very shortly, he returned with a wheelchair in tow.

John jerked his head towards the wheelchair, gesturing for Sherlock to come. Sherlock laughed.

"Under no circumstances am I being wheeled anywhere." Mycroft smiled darkly. "We'll see."

* * *

><p>"I hate you John." Sherlock revealed as John wheeled him down yet another corridor. "I am not at <em>all <em>happy. I despise you. You are the bane of the earth. I loath you. I-" John stopped him "I know. The kicking and screaming gave it away." John chuckled. "I was not screaming. I was making my displeasure known." Sherlock muttered. "Sure. We're here."

John pushed Sherlock through the double doors that lead to the ward that Esme was currently residing in. They stopped at the side of a bed. Various monitors were strategically placed on her body, all humming softly in the background. Esme was asleep peacefully.

Sherlock pulled himself out of the wheelchair and into the bedside seat. John chose that moment to leave them, considering that the door was about ten meters so Sherlock wouldn't make it out in the next hour anyway.

He took hold of one of her hands carefully, circling her palm with his thumb soothingly. He wasn't going to talk to an unconscious person, that would make no sense whatsoever.

"Hey." A small voice croaked from the bed after a while.

"Hello." Sherlock's low voice purred.

"So, you're alive." Esme stated.

"It would seem so. You're alive too."

"Just."

"I know. These life and death experiences are becoming rather character-building."

Esme let out a hoarse laugh. "Right... It more makes you think about life rather than build your character."

"Really? See, I've had plenty of near death experiences and they've just made me ever more audacious in tempting fate."

"That's just because you almost die everyday."

"Oh yeah. That incident with the blender last week was a real eye opener." They laughed again, but briefly."

"Sherlock."

Sherlock took Esme's hand, tracing invisible intricate patterns onto the back. She knew what he meant to say. "I almost lost you." Sherlock pondered, his voice now low and serious.

"Ditto." Esme countered. With great difficulty, Sherlock pushed himself out of his wheelchair, and onto one knee on the ground. "I've been thinking about this for a while you know." Sherlock spoke softly. "We both know the kind of life we're living. It's rather spontaneous. Anything could happen." Sherlock mused. "Why waste time in unknown murky territory when we both know what we want?" Sherlock smiled. "Understandably, this" Sherlock gestured around to the plain walls of the ward "Isn't the most romantic of places but did you expect anything more?" Sherlock laughed.

"I digress." Sherlock looked up. "Esmeralda Althea Melisande Valentina, will you do me the significant honour of becoming my wife?"

Esme looked on at him with a bemused face, which concerned him ever so slightly.

"You know my middle names?" Sherlock sighed. "Well, when you're going to propose, it's good to have at least some background information, Melisande." Esme groaned.

"Please don't call me that. My parents were obviously so overjoyed at my birth, they had lost every fibre of sense they had by the time it came to naming me." Sherlock sighed.

"Is this really the most pressing concern you have right now when I've just asked you to marry me? Which you haven't responded to yet, might I add." Esme smiled. "Yes, that fact that you looked up my birth certificate instead of asking me is a very concerning issue. Of course my answer is yes." Sherlock grinned, unboxing a small ring and slipping it around Esme's finger.

She lifted up the digit closer. "This really is a beautiful ring Sherlock."

It was a simple silver band with a single reasonable-sized circular sapphire surrounded by two smaller triangular diamonds.

"I would have assumed your taste in jewellery would be horrible."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows. "Why would you think that?" Esme looked up. "You don't even know who the current prime minster is, yet alone what type of ring a woman would like." Sherlock tilted his head to the side.

"I know what ring you would like, because you are my fiancée."

**A/N: MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Sherlock proposed! No-one said that they didn't want them married in fact it was much the opposite so ta-da! I'm sorry, but I just couldn't kill them. The infant's fate however, remains uncertain... This is the longest chapter I've written for a while...**

Special thanks to **Crimson TigerLily** for reviewing! I think it's amazing how you self-diagnosed in reality, it seems like quite a extraordinary feat! Hey, maybe the next time I'm ill I think back I try and use your rapid diagnosis method!

To **Gwilwillith:** Just proves that chivalry isn't dead yet... Well not at least in FanFiction anyway! Thanks for wishing me good luck in my exams, I'm getting my results back this week ;) *Fingers crossed*

To **kie1993:** I try to update as much as possible just for you guys! I love writing this story and I'm gonna keep trying to keep on top of my updating. Thanks for wishing me luck in my exams, I'm hoping they went well... ;)

To **carisa:** Thanks! We'll just have to wait and see now...


	21. Chapter 21

**The Best Man**

"John, you're my best man." Sherlock announced as he typed on his laptop. "Do I even have a choice?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course _not_."

**The Bridesmaid **

"Hi Molly!" Esme greeted the woman enthusiastically. "Oh, hey Esme." Molly smiled back. "Sherlock proposed. We're getting married next week." Molly looked slightly taken back.

"Really? Sherlock Holmes married..." Molly exhaled. "Congratulations, I'm pleased for you." Molly said, with a mildly sad undertone. "Molly, would you like to be my bridesmaid?" Molly looked surprised again.

"M-me? Are you sure?" She squeaked. "Yes! You're a very a good friend of Sherlock's and I'd like for us to get to know each other better. Not to mention that you'd also be a beautifully stunning bridesmaid." Esme grinned as Molly blushed shyly.

"I'd love to! Thank you Esme, I appreciate it." Esme nodded. "I hope you find your "happy ever after" soon Molly, you deserve it."

**The Maid of Honour**

"Esmeralda Valentina, where on this earth have you been? I feel like I've been playing hide and seek with you for months now!" Tabby shrieked as she caught sight of her best friend. "I've been busy Tabby!" Esme replied loftily. "Too busy for Tabby? Not possible." Tabby grinned. "So, what have you been up to with Detective Tall, pale and gorgeous?"

"We broke up, got back together again, he left on a case to Italy without telling me, I thought he ran away to Switzerland with a dominatrix, I went to Switzerland with John his best friend, to smack him upside the head, he returned to England a week later and thought I had eloped with his best friend to Switzerland, he followed me to Switzerland, we both found out that his older brother Mycroft who occupies a not so minor position in the government had just been shit stirring, he then reveals to Sherlock that I'm two months pregnant and Sherlock and I almost drowned last week now we're getting married next week and I want you to be my maid of honour." Esme took a deep breath.

"Nothing major."

...

"Molly was an interest choice for your only bridesmaid," Sherlock commented as Esme entered 221B. "You barely know her." Esme shrugged. "Only when I need bridesmaids do I suddenly discover my lack of close female friends." Sherlock laughed. "Anyway, you're friends with her and I want to know her better."

"And Tabitha for maid of honour?" Esme nodded. "Of course." Sherlock gave a small low laugh. "What?" Esme asked. "Don't worry, you'll see."

Esme knocked tentatively on the dark wood door. "Miss Valentina, I assume this is not a social visit." Mycroft asked as he opened the door. His attire was much like Sherlock's, in a dress shirt and slacks even at home. "Call me Esme, Mycroft. I'm about to be your sister-in-law, we should be on a first name basis by now. Can I come in?" Mycroft sighed and stepped aside to allow her entry.

Esme looked around at the interior of Mycroft's large townhouse. With high ceilings and long, floor sweeping curtains and deep brown wallpaper, his house was a reflection of him. Esme managed to find her way to the main room and took a seat on the other single chair, leaving the chair that sat by the wide window which looked like Sherlock's older brother often occupied, to Mycroft.

Mycroft assumed his chair swiftly. Apart from the furniture, the main room was most bare. Elaborate but bare. It lacked the comforting and homely touch that 221B so greatly exuded. No pictures on the wall, no television, just a laptop sitting on the coffee table. It was evident that he lived alone in this massive house.

"I believe you are here for a purpose, Esme." She straightened up. "Yes, well you already know that Sherlock and I are getting married next week." Mycroft nodded. "Sherlock was more than happy for you to play no role in our marriage whatsoever, however I disagree." Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"I would agree with him. I did try to destroy your relationship." Esme shrugged. "It didn't work and I'm not one for holding old scores. You're his brother no matter what and when this child is born, you're the only person in the world who can really be it's uncle." Esme smiled.

"I'm sure that you know by now that both my parents have died. Mycroft, I want you to give me away." Mycroft almost looked shocked.

"I'm not quite sure why you would want me to-" Esme stopped him. "Mycroft, I'm trying to forgive you. Stop making it so difficult." Esme stood up and offered Mycroft her hand. He shook it slowly. "You know Esme, it wasn't really me behind that whole affair. It was my mother, so do watch out for her."

...

"I'm still not happy that you picked Mycroft of all people to give you away." Sherlock announced. "I know Sherlock, you've been telling me for the past two hours since I got back." Sherlock took out his phone and texted Mycroft.

"It's a shame that you're going

to be preoccupied with giving Esme away.

I was going to make you page boy."

-SH

"Sherlock, remember our suit fittings are today. Did you check that Mycroft wasn't busy today like I asked?" John asked. "Yes." Sherlock answered quickly.

"No, he did not. In fact, he specifically picked the date that I was meant to be meeting the South Korean president." Mycroft informed John. "Well, at least I tried." Sherlock rolled his eyes, taking a quick glance at Mycroft.

"Yet another slip up while on your diet then Mycroft? I hope you don't gain more weight after the fitting, we don't want you bursting seams and popping buttons on the big day." Esme tore away from her tv show to glare at her fiancé . "Sherlock! You know full well that what you just said was extremely rude so apologise to Mycroft." Sherlock looked at Esme like she had grown a second head.

"But what I said was true." Esme raised an eyebrow. "That's not the point. You're being insensitive on purpose so say you are sorry." Sherlock sighed in defeat. "Apologies, brother." Mycroft gave him a small nod.

...

"C'mon Sherlock, Mycroft and I have already picked our suits and have had our measurements taken but on the other hand haven't even decided on a colour yet!" Sherlock sighed. "I've tried on seven suits already, it's her that holding us up." Sherlock said, referring to the lady who was supposed to be helping Sherlock pick. "Apparently, all the ones I have wore just don't look right." John sighed. "Sherlock, these all look like your normal suits." John grabbed the first different suit he saw off the rack. "Here, try this on." Sherlock stared at him. "No." John pushed Sherlock into one of the changing rooms, slightly surprised at how someone that lithe could be so resistant.

A few minutes later, an uncomfortable Sherlock emerged from the small cubicle.

"It's alright, I suppose." Sherlock reckoned. John rolled his eyes. "It's perfect." Sherlock turned to Mycroft, as a last ditch attempt. "I'm afraid I agree with Dr. Watson." He turned to the lady at the counter. "Don't mind what he's saying, we'll take it."

**The Dress**

"No." Tabitha said immediately, as Esme stepped out of the dressing room. Esme sighed, returning back into the cubicle.

"I don't think that one is right." Molly commented. Esme was wearing a large cream ball gown style dress, with diamanté detailing down both sides.

Esme nodded. "Neither do I. Why was it so much easier to pick dresses for you?" Molly and Tabitha smiled. "Because we're not the ones getting married, now back into the changing room!"

"That will not do."

"Nope."

"Never."

"Horrible."

"Just no."

"Seriously, they're are only two dresses left in this whole shop that I haven't already tried on!" Esme lamented. "Well, you best get trying then!" Tabitha laughed, blonde locks of hair falling around her face as she shoved Esme back in dressing room.

"That's...wow." Tabitha was rendered speechless. "I knew this one would be perfect the minute I wore it. What do you think Molly?" Esme gave a small twirl. Molly smiled. "Amazing. It's beautiful."

"Our work here is done."

**A/N: I am afraid, that this is the penultimate chapter! The last chapter will be the wedding and then I would have completed my first ever story! However, don't fret as I am planning a sequel but more details about that later! **

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially to Biro-V - You're just awesome, seriously ;) **

**Also, I've realized that most of my readers are from the USA! Hello, from across the pond because I'm from the UK ;) However, I have given up trying to ignore the Fanfiction American spell-checker and have allowed it to Americanize my writing ;) Does anyone know why in America, loads of things are spelled sans "u"? **

**Review!**


	22. Chapter 22

The Wedding

"Why!" Sherlock shouted. "Is this monstrosity so unbelievably irritating?" Sherlock tugged at his tie. "I've been asking that question about you for years now." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Very amusing, John." John looked Sherlock up and down. "What are you doing standing around, you still have loads to do." Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Like what? I'm dressed." He motioned towards the suit he was wearing. "Your hair, it's all over the place. You're not wearing any cuff links. You're wearing your normal shoes which are going to need polishing considering how much you've run around in them. Need I go on?" Sherlock sighed.

"This is too much effort. Why couldn't we have had a simple wedding in the registry office, in my normal clothes might I add?" John rolled his eyes. "This is what Esme wants, so rather than complaining why don't you get it over with?" Sherlock sighed, as he retrieved a brush from the desk. "There's nothing wrong with my hair..." He muttered under his breath. "In fact, she's commented rather positively on my hair, multiple times..."

"Aw, Molly!" Esme commented as she caught sight of her bridesmaid who held onto the hand of Sally, her young niece who would be the flower girl. "You look gorgeous!" It was true, Tabitha had been working her magic hands on her for the past hour.

Molly's hair had been straightened and then lightly curled and left to flow onto her back. She only had light make up on her face, to accentuate rather than mask. Molly was wearing a deep sapphire coloured dress, that comfortable hugged her frame and wrapped around her shoulders exposing two blue straps lined with diamantes.

"Me? Have you seen Tabby?" Molly exclaimed. Esme shrugged. Tabby always looked nice, just even more so today. She was made up to perfection and wearing a simple floor-length navy blue dress that clinched in on one side above the waist and fell straight to the ground. "I know exactly what would complete your outfit, Molly." Esme picked up a pair of diamond earrings from her dresser. She handed them over to Molly.

Molly stared at her. "I can't- Weren't you going to wear these?" Esme sighed. "Don't worry about me, Molly! Try them on." Molly slipped both of the earrings onto her ears. "They suit you, you should keep them." Molly's eyes widened again, before she calmed. "Thank you." Tabitha walked over to the two women.

"I must remind you, that you're getting married in just over an hour, yet you'll still in your bath robe." Esme laughed. "We best be getting to work then!"

"Don't you dare come in yet Mycroft Holmes!" Tabitha shrieked from the other side of the door, her voice deadly. Mycroft remained firmly on the opposite side of the door.

"Quick, Tabby do up my zipper please!" Esme stood in front of her. As Tabitha pulled up the zipper, Esme's hair fell from it's clasp into the zipper's path, catching between the mechanism. Silently, Tabby attempted to tug the zip back down to release her hair. "Holy crap! What on earth did you just do?" Esme shrieked in pain.

"Ok, ok! Now, don't panic but your hair is caught in the zip and I can't get it out. Remember, don't panic!" Esme looked back at Tabitha with a look of disbelief. "I'm supposed to be walking down that aisle in 15 minutes!" Esme complained. "So, what are we going to do?" Tabby asked. Esme reached over for the pair of scissors that sat on the table. "Cut. But beware that I am trusting you with my hair on my wedding day." Tabby tentatively took the scissors and snipped away a small portion of hair, collecting it on the table.

But then it was uneven. Very careful, Tabitha cut across, levelling out Esme's locks. Esme turned to examine her new hairstyle : It was significantly shorter but not short. Grabbing the scissors herself this time, Esme cut her hair short leaving it just below shoulder length, against Tabby's outcries.

Once she had ruffled it up a bit, Esme's hair looked rather edgy. "It's not half bad you know." Tabitha considered. Molly quietly snuck into the room, ready to ask Esme to hurry up but ended up gasping in shock, frozen. "Your hair!" Molly pointed. "I know." Esme shrugged. "Who cut it for you in the space of five minutes while I was gone?" Esme shrugged. "Me and Tabitha. What do you think?" Molly smiled. "It's lovely." Esme grinned. "Now can you help me zip up my dress, I don't want to lose any more hair."

...

"Wait, let me put your veil on for you!" Tabby snatched it out of the drawer and fixed it firmly on the side of Esme's hair at an angle."It's not really a veil, but more of a fascinator you know." Tabby rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Ok Mycroft, you can come in now!" Mycroft pushed the door open and strutted in. He now held a suitably white umbrella in his hand. "Ah, Esme you're ready." Esme nodded.

"Dr Hooper and Dr Lyons, your car is waiting outside for you." Molly and Tabitha both gave Esme a quick hug. "We'll see you soon honey." Tabby smiled at Esme's eyes full of worry. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. You're marrying a great man and nothing can change that." Tabitha and Molly left smoothly.

"We're going to be leaving a couple of minutes after them." Mycroft informed her. "The bride is meant to be last to arrive." Esme smiled. "I know Mycroft." Mycroft sat down in silence. "How are you, Mycroft?" He looked up at her. "Pardon me?" Esme rolled her eyes. He was just as unemotional as Sherlock used to be.

"How are you doing, Mycroft? Is your minor position in the government going well?" He scanned her, trying to extract a reason as to why she is bothering to ask. He found nothing but politeness.

"I'm fine." Mycroft replied abruptly. Esme looked at him sadly.

"Thank you for asking." He added on quickly afterwards. "Are you married, Mycroft?" Esme asked. "You're full of questions today." Esme pressured on. "Well?" Esme questioned. Mycroft sighed. "Do I look like a married man?" Esme raised an eyebrow. "You're wearing a ring." Mycroft shrugged, refusing to speak more.

"I could ask Sherlock." Mycroft narrowed his eyes. "Don't ask Sherlock." He coughed quietly. "Deceased." Esme softened. "Oh. I'm sorry." Mycroft sighed. "Don't be sorry for me." Esme quirked up again. "What was she like?" Mycroft looked down at the ground, considering what to say. He looked up and straight at Esme. "She was kind and beautiful. Much like you." Mycroft frowned.

"It was a sin to allow her life away from someone as innocent as her. I will always be guilty for her death." Esme was sad for Mycroft. "You've never thought of remarrying?" Mycroft shook his head. "In a way, I've committed myself to a lifetime of solitude in Vera's memory." Esme shook her head. "You're not living in solitude. You have your family. Sherlock?" Mycroft laughed sadly and it broke Esme's heart to hear it. A horn beeped outside. "That would be the other car. Don't mention the contents of our conversation to my brother. We must be off." As Esme left her dressing room, she looked at Mycroft with a new found respect and the reassurance that she had picked a good man to give her away.

...

"Ready?" Mycroft asked. Esme nodded. The wedding march started to play on the organ. Slowly, gripping Mycroft's arm for support, Esme strode into the church. There weren't that many people present around 50 at most. Lestrade and Mrs Hudson sat on left hand side front row. Mrs Holmes was seated alone on the right. Behind them was most of Esme's friends. There was a sparse spattering of Sherlock's wider acquaintances.

As Esme drew closer to the front of the church, she could finally see Sherlock. He was wearing a dark grey suit and waistcoat with a deep purple shirt and matching tie as John stood by his side in a similar combination. Although he looked rather uncomfortable in his attire, Sherlock still managed a small smirk when he caught Esme's eye.

Sherlock POV

Sherlock turned towards the entrance as he heard the car pull up. He saw the shadows of Esme and Mycroft stepping out of the car before interlinking arms. Esme began to walk slowly into looking around at the people nearby. She stared straight passed him. Sherlock almost laughed. "She can't see me yet." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Esme's going to need glasses by the time she's forty." Sherlock laughed mentally. "She'll probably get contact lenses."

Finally, Sherlock saw Esme smiling at him. He gave a small smirk back. As Esme reached the front of the church, Mycroft released his arms and allowed Sherlock to hold her hand. "You're an extremely fortunate man, Sherlock." Mycroft told him, before going to take the seat next to his mother.

"I see you had a slight mishap with a zip." Sherlock told her. "Don't even get me started." Esme responded. "No. Short hair looks good on you, you should keep it this way." Esme raised an suspicious eyebrow. "Was that a compliment I heard?" Sherlock shrugged. "Must have slipped out by accident." Esme elbowed him in the side, producing a small squeal from Sherlock.

The vicar then started to speak."We are gathered here today, to witness the marriage of these two beloved." The vicar said. Sherlock almost cringed.

"Sherlock William Arthur Holmes, will you have Esmeralda Althea Melisande Valentina to be your wife, to live together as friend and mate? Will you love her as a person, respect her as an equal, sharing joy as well as sorrow, triumph as well as defeat. Stand by her in sickness and in health, and in poverty or wealth? And keep her beside you as long as you both shall live?" Sherlock took a deep breath. "Yes, I do."

The vicar turned to Esme. "Esmeralda Althea Melisande Valentina, will you have Sherlock William Arthur Holmes to be your husband, to live together as friend and mate? Will you love him as a person, respect him as an equal, sharing joy as well as sorrow, triumph as well as defeat. Stand by him in sickness and in health, and in poverty or wealth? And keep him beside you as long as you both shall live?" Esme nodded. "Yes. Yes, I do."

The vicar moved on. "Your vows, if you please." Sherlock perked up. "I'll go first, if you don't mind." Esme shrugged. "Everyone here knows that I'm not one for revealing all." There was a quiet muttering of agreement from those seated. "But I will tell you this. You're one of my best friends. Trustworthy confidante. Reliable ally. You can cook too, which is definitely a plus." Esme gave a small chuckle.

"I want to spend my life in your company." Sherlock smiled and then bent down to quickly whisper in her ear. "I love you." Esme nodded.

"Ok, then my turn I guess." She turned to face Sherlock fully. "I don't mind proclaiming the fact that I love you to the world. I love your deductions even when you go too far, your smile, your laugh, your snarky backhanded insults and your dry sarcastic wit. Hell, I don't even mind when you get all moody and start pouting." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I don't pout." Esme laughed. "Yes you do, honey. You're doing it now." Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "That is not pouting,-" Esme held up a hand.

"Stop interrupting Sherlock! I was in the middle of my vows! Now, if you can't be quiet I'll have to send you to the naughty corner." Sherlock looked at her. "You can't punish me, I am a grown man." Sherlock looked outraged. "This is my wedding too, you know. I need to be here." Esme put her hands on her hips. "No, you don't. You've already said 'I do.' It's too late now." John sighed from the crowd. "Get a move on and stop bickering! You're not even married yet!" Esme glanced at John, before taking a deep breath and continuing.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interupted by the faithfully irritating man before me, Sherlock Holmes, I wouldn't trade you for anyone in the world." Sherlock heard a muffled sniffle from the audience and most likely from Mrs Hudson. "Now for some readings." The vicar announced. By the third reading, Sherlock was bored out of his skull. "How long on average do weddings take?" Esme suppressed a laugh. "Have you never been to a wedding before Sherlock?" Esme whispered back. "Not that I can remember." Sherlock spoke into Esme's ear.

"I need to be back at 221B by four to tend to my bio-cultures." Esme rolled her eyes. "We will not be back by four." Sherlock sighed then smiled. "We should sit then." Sherlock pulled of his suit jacket and laid it down on the cold stone floor. Esme gently lowered herself to the ground, Sherlock sitting down next to her, his gangly legs crossed. Attracting most of the attention in the church away from the vicar, at first they just sat there, whispering quiet words into each other's ear before a small stifled laugh. "Me, getting married. You should seen my mother's face when I told her." Esme raised an eyebrow, to which Sherlock replied. "Not pleased that I was marrying you. But pleased that I was settling down." Esme sighed. "Why doesn't she like me?" Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know, maybe it's because you're ginger."

"If you would like to stand now." The vicar asked Sherlock and Esme, who peacefully obeyed. "I now pronounce these two people, husband and wife. You may now kiss your bride." Sherlock turned to Esme. "With pleasure." And he kissed her.

As Sherlock and Esme proceeded out of the church, Lestrade ran up to Sherlock. "Triple murder, one hanged, one strangled and one beaten to death. I know it's your wedding day but I thought I should tell-" Sherlock cut him off. "No." Lestrade nodded in agreement. "Go Sherlock." Esme told him. He looked at her strangely. "But don't you-" Esme shook her head. "I knew exactly who I was marrying Sherlock. I married a consulting detective. Now, go and... detect or something. I have Tabby, Molly and Mrs Hudson to keep me conpany." Sherlock beamed. "You truly amaze me." Sherlock gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek, before making towards the main road to hail a taxis. As she watched him stroll off, Esme loosened her fist to find a piece of paper in her hand.

"Bankside, London EC5 6FT. Go immediately.

-SH"

Esme rolled her eyes. Sherlock expected her to travel across London...in her wedding dress. She turned over the piece of paper.

"Never mind that you're in your wedding dress, you look beautiful."

Damn his charm.

As Esme strode towards the car that had first brought her to the church, Molly called after her. "Do you want someone to drive with you to Baker Street?" Esme smiled as she glanced back to Molly. "I'll be fine." Esme assured her. "Sure." Molly replied, assuming that Esme simply didn't wanted company. "Someone's leading you to an address and you're willingly going?" Mycroft asked quietly. "It's Sherlock." Esme replied. "Are you sure about that?" Mycroft retorted. "I can recognize my husband's tone of writing." Esme told him. "One that can be duplicated." Mycroft informed her. "Only by you. Is this concern I hear Mycroft?" Esme asked. "Maybe just a tad. Remember, I'll have my eyes on you." Mycroft disclosed. "It's nice to know you care." He narrowed his eyes. "Goodbye Mycroft." Esme said as she climbed into the car. Once she had entered the car, Esme ripped of the top portion of Sherlock's note that had scribbled the address on and handed it to the driver. "Be quick, please."

"Why has Sherlock lead me to a gallery?" Esme asked, in her head. "The Tate Modern, to be specific." Ignoring the bewildering stares from passerbys at her attire, Esme walked up the steps to a locked door. Another note was wedged in the key hole.

"Jerk the handle up, twist it to the left, push it back then shove the door hard

-SH"

Rolling her eyes again, Esme did as the instructions told and the door swung open.

The lights were off. Trying to give herself some assurance by reminding herself that Sherlock had sent her here, Esme walked tentatively in. Esme reached what she believed to be the middle of the main hall. Looking around, she could see nothing of great interest. As she turned on her heels to start heading back out, strong arms grabbed her by the waist, pulling her closer causing Esme to release an glass shattering scream. "Oh ye of little faith." Her attacker whispered into her ear.

"Sherlock Holmes, you son of a bitch." Sherlock let out a small chuckle, before releasing her and going to turn on the lights.

"Introducing the EV exhibition, dear." As the lights came on, Esme could now clearly see a selective range of her paintings hanging decoratively on the walls. But it was quite clear what was the centrepiece. Suspended from the ceilings, floating in mid air were the paintings that she had completed with Sherlock.

The heart and the skull.

"Oh wow." Esme managed to whisper, stunned into near silence. "I realised that you having a child wasn't only affecting me but you too. You think that people are going to think that you've achieved nothing in life but being rich and having children." Sherlock shook his head.

"This shows otherwise. You're an accomplished artist." Esme looked up at Sherlock. "You being annoying is so much easier to deal with. Caring, nice you is harder to berate." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "You could just say you like it. And thank you perhaps." Esme smiled.

"I'm missing my reception." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "So?" Esme shrugged. "I wanted to have my first dance, and show everyone how good a dancer my husband is." Sherlock shook his head. "No way." Esme pouted. "Fine!" Sherlock replied. "Here's my phone, go on the internet and play the song you wanted us to dance to." Esme shook her head. "Really, my first dance in the Tate Modern?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and passed his phone to Esme. "There's no signal in here Sherlock." Sherlock sighed. "Then you sing it. Don't lie, I've heard you singing it in the shower before."

Sherlock grasped Esme around the waist while she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You and I." She started.

_Two of a kind._

_This love's one of a kind._

A small twirl.

_You and I._

_We're drifting,_

_Over the edge._

They moved slowly around the floor and Sherlock let Esme fall back into a small dip before catching her again.

_And I will fall for you_

_And I will fall for you_

_And if I fall for you_

_Will you fall too?_

Esme paused. "Thank you, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked like a five year old who had been given a sticker for his homework.

"It was no trouble, Mrs Holmes."

**To be continued, soon.**

**A/N: I can't believed I've really finished my first story! Pressing that button that made my story completed :( But alas, this story isn't over yet!**

**Well, I am hoping to do a sequel which will most likely be called "Good Morning, Mrs Holmes" or maybe "Good Morning, Esmeralda." I'm not sure yet. **

**Either way thank you to Bhav and Hannah for pressuring me ALL week to get this chapter uploaded, without you, I probably would have finished this next month :***

**It's funny how this story jumped from 60 visitors in one month to over 5,000 last month but you're the people that deserved the praise! **

**THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO STUCK WITH FANFIC! I WOULDN'T BE WRITING THIS IF YOU DIDN'T READ AND REVIEW. I think this deserves hugs all round *hugs**hugs***

**Also SallyFantastic, you're a flowergirl in case you didn't notice :D I had to edit your bit in but it's not that long :(**

**And everyone, do review this story and check out my new story when I put it out. I might try and PM anyone who's only on Story Alert if you want me too :)**

**Anyway for now, Goodbye!**

**Love BV x**


	23. Chapter 23

**Good Morning, Mrs Holmes is UP!**

**Chapter 1 is there for your reading :) **

**Sorry, if you thought that I had tricked you guys before and this was a new chapter :(**

**Byeeee, from BV ;)**


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